I find myself in a dilemma as I formulate my thoughts on the issue of the uplifts of children and the various ways in which this can happen. In recent times the focus of concern has been the uplift of Māori babies and placement outside of whānau and culture.
The government has made a commitment to repeal the legislation that appears to have driven the increased number of uplifts – but the problem is much deeper than that. At the time Oranga Tamariki was established three years ago there was a stated commitment to the service being child-centred and trauma-informed.Social workers engaged in the uplift of Māori children seem to have been motivated by an ideological belief that risk of trauma to the child justified removal and that speedy movement to ensure stability through permanency justified placement outside culture in the interests of being child-centred.
That this practice could be justified 30-plus years on from the Pūao-te-Āta-tū report that so clearly documented institutional racism and led to the introduction of the 1989 Children, Young Persons and their Families Act is testimony to the power of structures that fail to take account of our obligations to work in partnership and reinforce disregard for the central role of cultural connection for wellbeing and identity.
Such practice is neither child-centred nor trauma-informed because it perpetuates the intergenerational and historical trauma associated with colonisation.
In an attempt to be seen to address the criticisms levelled at the organisation, it appears, however, that a different wave of uplifts is taking place.
Māori children placed with non-Māori caregivers are being uplifted and placed with whānau that they do not know and in some instances live a long way from where the child has been living, making any sort of gradual transition impossible.
In these instances, section 7AA, a legislation change brought in last year that requires decision-makers to consider the importance of a child’s mana, culture and whakapapa, is cited as justifying this action. Again, the practice is ideologically-driven and is neither child-centred nor trauma-informed.
Uplift is traumatic for children. It involves the forced removal of a child or group of children from all that is familiar to them at an age when they cannot comprehend what is going on. Forced removal should only occur in the most dangerous situations where the risk is imminent. In all other situations, a considered and planned approach is essential if the wellbeing of the children is to be front and centre.
It is also important that a long-term view of wellbeing is taken. Statutory involvement in children’s lives is not just about the here and now, it carries substantive responsibility for the future.
All children need stability and continuity of loving care to achieve their potential. Their future wellbeing also depends on knowing who they are and where they came from. When continuity is disrupted their need for these things increases and multiple disruptions have an exponential detrimental impact on wellbeing.
There should be no trade-off between stability and cultural connection; decision-making about where children are to live should be driven by an understanding of the importance of both.
Going forward, practice has to ensure that the resources are available to support whānau when there are care and protection concerns and undertake extensive whakapapa searches before decisions are made about permanent placement for children when this is deemed necessary.
In the current situation we are confronted with the legacy of practice that has continued to ignore the importance of cultural connection. This legacy means that we have Māori children who have been living with non-Māori carers for substantive periods of their lives. This is their world. Removal is traumatic, all the more so because they have experienced previous disruption and trauma.
The uplift of Māori children from non-Māori placements is another example of ideologically-driven practice that will have long-term consequences. I am not suggesting that such situations should not be reviewed.
We know that issues of cultural identity may not surface until the adolescent years. We need to be thinking about the long-term and how all children can be connected to culture and people who can help them develop a narrative of their life that addresses the complexities associated with being removed from birth family.
What is needed is engagement with carers, the children in their care and whānau to ensure the development of pathways forward that meet all of the children’s needs. Demonising caregivers is no more acceptable than demonising birth parents.
Oranga Tamariki requires its social workers to be registered and registration carries the obligation of competent practice. Ideologically-driven practice fails to meet the criteria for competent social work practice.
Perhaps this is what happens when leadership is in the hands of people who are not social work-trained and who apply managerial approaches that reduce the complexity of care and protection down to measurable outputs, such as the number of children returned to whānau, as an indicator of good practice.
In my experience as a social work educator, people come into the profession because they want to make a positive difference. The problem is that organisational cultures that do not support them to do this in the context of complex and challenging situations leads to procedurally driven practice that falls well short of competent social work practice.
Children, whānau and caregivers become collateral damage. The fall-out is devastating and has long-term consequences – as the Royal Commission on historic abuse is uncovering.
Burnt-out social workers will tell you this is inevitable because of the trauma experienced before coming into care. This is a cop-out. Healing and recovery are possible and many of the people who have been passionate advocates of the need for change are living testimony to this.
Good social work is about supporting healing and recovery at the earliest opportunity. To do this, social workers need to have time to engage with people, the ability to develop comprehensive assessments, and the confidence to work alongside all of the people affected by the decisions that are made. These are the elements of success that should be measured, not crude statistics that serve to mask the enormous cost of poor decision-making.
