Reflections

Interviewing victims of state violence brings responsibilities. Once we ‘know’ about harms, there is a level of expectation that we will also act to make things better

(Cohen, 2001). As a critical criminologist, this is also a fundamental element of doing research. The creation of knowledge is not just a library exercise; instead, it is directed to progressive change in perceptions, relationships, laws, policies, official practices, societal conditions, and so on.

My research led to several useful outcomes in terms of shifting our knowledge about state violence. For instance, the interviews have unearthed a level of harm against children that has, thus far, been silenced. Unlike other countries where there have been large-scale public inquiries into the institutional abuse of children, the official response to claimants in New Zealand has operated to deny or minimize testimonies (see Stanley, 2015).

By collectivizing individual interviews, a social truth about institutional life and harms has emerged that demonstrates the continuities of experiences, across institu- tions at different times. Victims’ testimonies are consistent in identifying who abused children, where and how. Unknown to each other, victims remarked upon the same violators, the same extreme punishments, the same methods of abuse, the same dis- regard for humanity and the same limits of accountability. They witnessed the physical, sexual or psychological abuse of others; they name the victims and the violators, and provide new detail on specific events. The extent of corroboration in these testimonies is compelling and it’s important as it challenges the official claim (particularly in the court rooms) that those bringing claims are vindictive or delu- sional. In short, the interviews have affirmed victims as victims.

Further, interviewees have also highlighted the problems of viewing state harms in terms of physical or sexual violence, as most official responses have tended to do (Stanley, 2015). Instead, their accounts demonstrate the need to take a more nuanced account that considers the extensive implications of social and cultural harms. For example, interviewees discussed how violence within state residences continued over into foster care, mental health institutions and other community placements. They reflected, too, on how degrading institutional cultures, poor educational provisions, constant placement changes, lack of association with old friends or siblings, loss of cultural connections, or inadequate supports on release from care all contributed to a deep sense of loss as well as long-term economic, social, cultural and personal harms. These experiences, that reveal the mundane realities of state violence, have been deeply damaging over victims’ lifetimes. Among other things, they created con- ditions in which victims were far more likely to experience long-term disadvantages and to progress into offending. By highlighting these wider ‘non-criminal’ harms, interviewees could also show how their past experiences have continued into present conditions for children in care. There is a continuum of victimization, which includes an ‘everydayness of brutality’ that permeates social and institutional practices (Stanley, 2012).

Interviewees’ accounts challenge common perceptions about state harms, by com-

mission or omission, and in doing so they simultaneously confront myths about who victims are or what they want. For example, victims highlighted that, contrary to common assumptions, they are rarely motivated by compensation. Rather, almost all

interviewees focused on their desire for recognition. Above all else, they wanted pub- lic disclosure of state violence, so that more New Zealanders would understand the limited protection of children by authorities. Further, opening up discussions would allow them to more easily explain their life journeys to loved ones (sometimes for the first time). The vast majority of interviewees also wanted to hear a public apology for state violence, from the highest levels of government. Most wanted access to social support – such as counselling – while a small group aspired to meet their abusers within a restorative justice setting. Others requested prosecution, but a far more sig- nificant desire was to address the poverty and violence currently inflicted on children. In exposing victims’ accounts, this research aimed to show how identities, events and discourses on violence are ‘derived and reproduced, historically and contempo- raneously, in the structural relations of inequality and oppression that characterize established social orders’ (Chadwick and Scraton, 2001: 72). It has demonstrated, for example, how state violence was directed at Mā ori children in ways that reiter- ated the power structures of colonization, patriarchy and advanced global capitalism. Yet, in doing so, I also wanted to ‘instigate a transformation’ (Butler, 2004: 44) and to foster an understanding that we are left with no choice but to act to make things better. As a critical researcher, I am interested in research praxis: how theory con- nects to practice ‘and the struggle that exists in all intellectual movements to transform existing (oppressive or marginalizing) societal conditions into meaningful reflection, action and change’ (Arrigo, 2001: 219). While I write against state vio-

lence, I also want to write for change.

To that end, I have argued that official agencies should respond to victims and their accounts through approaches that reflect the needs of recognition, repair and the prevention of future harms (Stanley, 2015, 2016). I have encouraged interviewees’ histories to be more widely discussed. Together with others (such as lawyers, judges and human rights commissioners), I have regularly discussed findings with anyone who might listen. I have presented many public lectures, written media commentaries, participated in radio and television programmes, and featured across newspapers, magazines and websites (see, for example, Smale, 2016). And, as journalistic and public interest has grown, the issue has developed. More victims have come forward and are publicly sharing their experiences. Concerns of abuse are also now being con- nected to other ‘care’ sites, including residential schools for those with disabilities, psychiatric hospitals, wilderness ‘youth justice’ camps and foster care. The Human Rights Commission has developed a campaign for a Commission of Inquiry, and the Waitangi Tribunal has received a claim to address the issue of the differential treat- ment and impact of state care on the lives of Mā ori. At the time of writing, the new Labour government has announced a commitment to implement an inquiry into abuse in state care. The research has had significant impact and contributed to a developing social history about state care and harms against children more broadly.

The ‘burden’ of a critical approach to research entails ‘high expectations’ to pro-

gress social, political and economic change (Sim, 2003: 248; see also Cohen, 2001; Giroux, 2002). These steps are not always easy. For example, in writing up,

I struggled with a sense of responsibility in ‘getting the story right’, so that all respondents would see their own history within the collective. I worried about creating publications that would commodify victims’ stories without developing real action (Plummer, 2001). And I was challenged by the onus on me to do research in a way that moved beyond good analysis (Stanley, 2012) – so much so that after completing the book, the publishers asked me to rewrite the whole thing (almost 300 pages! ) to ensure that it would reach the largest public audience. I managed this task but, on more than one occasion, I wondered why I hadn’t become an aromatherapist. Still, I retain hope and optimism that, by charting these experiences, I have maintained a role of critic and conscience of society and that the research, in turn, might spread ‘the values of human rights, the rule of law, and social justice’ (Giroux, 2002: 160).