Open letter from Hands off our tamariki Ōtaki hui

The following letter was sent to all Māori Members of Parliament from the Hands off our tamariki Ōtaki hui, held 12 October at Te Wānanga o Raukawa.


Re: Proposed changes to the Children, Young Persons and their Families Act


Tēnā koutou i ngā tini āhuatanga o te ao,

On Wednesday, October 12, a hui in Ōtaki discussed the changes Anne Tolley has proposed to the Children, Young Persons and their Families Act, removing the clauses that consider the effects of decisions on whānau, and that prioritise placing a child within their hapū or iwi.

Those clauses came out of the 1988 report Puao-te-ata-tu. After extensive research around the nation, Puao-te-ata-tu found that ‘institutional racism’ was at the root of Māori social welfare problems, and predicted that the Crown would continue to fail Māori unless this was fixed. The report found that Māori succeed when rangatiratanga is recognised and supported, and recommended that Māori should be resourced to solve the problems Māori are facing.

Two findings of Puao-te-ata-tu are particularly related to the proposed changes. Firstly, children are members of whānau and hapū, and the wellbeing of those units needs to be considered. At the time, legislation regarded the welfare of the child as the first and paramount consideration (the proposed changes will re-instate this). The report found that in the context of institutional racism, this took away the ability of whānau, hapū and iwi to take responsibility for their children. Secondly, the well-being of Māori children includes their sense of belonging to whakapapa and whānau, prioritising their wellbeing includes prioritising those connections. In the context of institutional racism, not specifically prioritising whakapapa means children are isolated from their whakapapa and culture. This is dangerous.

Puao-te-ata-tu made many recommendations, most of which have not been met. The two clauses that Anne Tolley is proposing to remove were hard won. Removing them from legislation takes away all protection for connections to whakapapa.

It is unbelievable that social workers cannot find safe and loving whānau within a child’s whakapapa. As Tariana Turia has said of her iwi “You can't tell me that within 8000 people connected by our river, you cannot find someone to care for a child.”

It is tragic whenever CYF places children in unsafe situations, including unsafe whānau. It is an example of CYF making bad decisions for our children, and why we want to make those decisions ourselves. CYF’s bad practice cannot be used as an excuse to remove provisions to protect children in the context of whānau. To make that argument is transparently racist—Māori cannot be blamed for the Crown’s bad decisions.

Removing the clauses from legislation is simply another colonising act of control. The proposed changes are inconsistent with the UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, to which New Zealand is a signatory. In particular, the changes are inconsistent with article 7.2 which recognises “the collective right to live in freedom, peace and security as distinct peoples and shall not be subjected to any act of genocide or any other act of violence, including forcibly removing children of the group to another group.”

It is apt that this hui was held at Te Wānanga o Raukawa. From the Wānanga, for decades Whatarangi Winiata has argued for an enduring and fair solution to the many problems that Māori face as a result of colonisation, including the number of children in state care. The solution he proposes is a reallocation of resources, from the Crown to Māori. If all the resources that the Crown takes and uses to protect our children were instead given to Māori, returning all responsibility to care for our children, history and experience suggests our children would be better off. This is the long-term solution we support.

We are asking you as a Member of Parliament to do all that you can to reverse the changes to the CYPF Act that Anne Tolley is proposing. These changes come from a monocultural understanding of child welfare. They will result in dislocating Māori children from their whakapapa and all the negative outcomes that stem from that disconnection. There has been no credible reason given for the changes. They breach the UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, and meet the Declaration’s definition of genocide. We would expect the Crown to be moving towards honouring Te Tiriti, but these changes are a dangerous step away from rangatiratanga. They are assimilationist, racist and colonising.

We hope that you will be brave, energetic and outspoken in protecting our tamariki from these moves.

Ngā mihi,

Attendees of the Hands off our tamariki hui in Ōtaki, 12 October 2016

Accepting violence

Around 2000 I was at a party in someone’s flat in Germany. We were probably all in our 20s, students or postdocs at the university, and there was a lot of alcohol. A guy (I’ll call him Guy1) was talking to me, he asked me to have lunch with him, I said no, in that joking inoffensive way that we do. He tried again a couple of times, I laughed him off. It was all very light, it probably lasted a couple of minutes and was completely forgettable, except for what happened next. Another guy came over and started talking to Guy1, he moved Guy1 away from me. In the next few minutes several people, men and women, apologised to me for Guy1’s behaviour and assured me that he would leave me alone. It was so beyond my experience of life that all I could do was laugh.

I was reminded of this the other day when I was thinking about how hard it is to explain what rape culture is, and why it’s bad. If, like me, you can’t stop yourself from reading comments on articles about violence against women, you will know that many people are outraged by the term rape culture. I get that no-one likes jargon, and lots of people are scared of feminism, so we could use different words to talk about the same stuff. But when people don’t use the term rape culture, it’s clear that the words aren’t the problem. The problem is that many people accept that violence (especially violence against women) is inevitable, and for whatever reason, they are offended when anyone acts like it’s not. They are offended when people don’t accept violence as an inevitable consequence of a woman being drunk, or alone, or out at night, or with a man, or wearing whatever, or working, or taking drugs, or having an opinion, or using public transport, or not standing up for herself, or blahblahblah. Those people talk about how women need to be responsible for avoiding this ever-present threat of violence, and are upset by anyone who wants to talk about how to remove the threat. They have accepted that violence against women is inevitable, so we all need to accept it. To be clear, whenever anyone says or implies that violence is inevitable, when they ask us to accept that violence is inevitable, they ask us to accept violence—violence is acceptable. And if violence is acceptable, then the victim is the problem that we need to focus on. If violence is inevitable, then there is no point trying to stop people being violent, instead we need to control potential victims.

How do you shift them from that point to reveal violence as a choice that some people are making? To reveal that we can be safer and more free by focusing on that choice, whether or not to be violent. Whereas, whenever we focus on the choices that victims or potential victims of violence make, we make the world more dangerous and less free.

My experience of parties and pubs has ingrained rules in me—don’t make eye contact with men I don’t know, don’t smile, don’t make conversation, stay in the bubble; smile and laugh if a man approaches, have a polite excuse to get away; always be aware; be nice/ likeable even if it takes forever to get away. I expect men who will not accept a polite excuse, I expect to have to argue, gently, carefully, and that it might take minutes or hours, I know some of those men will be dangerous even if they don’t know it. I expect men who will choose not to respect my decisions about my body. At times, it has taken hours of gently, carefully, saying no to men; at times, those men have been close friends who care about me.

My partner (a woman) had a conversation with my dad a few weeks ago. My dad was worried that I was abusing her, and it turned out that the problem was that I had said no to him—I had refused to continue an email argument, and when Dad wouldn’t stop, I told him I needed a break from him until he controlled himself. The only way my dad could make sense of this was that I am an abusive person, hence his concern for my partner. My partner explained the concept of personal boundaries to him (that we each can choose how we want people to behave towards us and what happens if they won’t), but the idea was new and foreign to him. I’m sure he still sees me saying no to him as a character flaw.

How do we keep ourselves safe if we are taught that it is wrong to say no to someone who doesn’t behave towards us in the way that we want?

I was wondering what the absence of rape culture would be like. What would it be like if people were free to say yes or no whenever they wanted without constant vigilance and fear for their safety? Would I recognise it? It feels beyond my comprehension. And then I remembered that night at the party in Germany—the concern of the other party goers was beyond my comprehension. It felt weird. I was even uncomfortable with them talking to the guy—was it controlling, oppressive? I’ve heard enough people talk about anything like that as repressive—how can we even have fun? It’s policing normal behaviour, you’d lock up all teenagers next, etc. It’s tragic that respecting each other is so foreign and terrifying.

The idea that it is reasonable for women to have personal boundaries was not something I was raised with, and it’s not consistent with my experience. My experience of parties and pubs comes from at least some people struggling to respect other people’s boundaries, and no-one telling them they need to. There are no repercussions for a guy being obnoxious, there are often no repercussions for a guy being violent. When guys ask for the same thing over and over, and ignore polite requests to stop and to leave, whether or not they are threatening us, they are using the existence of the threat of violence. It is treated as normal and acceptable, and no-one tells them they are being abusive.

I hope it is a generational thing. I hope my experience is incomprehensible to my daughter. I want her to go to parties like the one I went to in Germany, I want it to be normal. If someone behaves badly, I want it to be unacceptable, to her and everyone else. I want her to be free, to say yes or no to whatever she likes, to give and expect respect. I want a future where, when people talk about what’s inevitable, that’s what they’re talking about—mana, manaaki, care, respect.

For that to happen, we need to get better at how we talk about and what we do about violence. It's not inevitable, it's a choice. We need to stop accepting that choice. We need to support people to stop using violence, to get away from violence. We need to get better at recognising when violence and the threat of violence are being used to control—whether it's by individuals, groups or the state. Violence is unacceptable. We need to keep saying that.

Muddying the waters

I haven’t written anything much about the Māori Council’s Waitangi Tribunal hearing on water rights, because I haven’t had the time to follow the argument, and because I expect the arguments are very similar to many other inquiries. For example, the radio spectrum claims (summary here, and which I might write more about shortly), or the Ngāti Apa case that led to the foreshore and seabed debacle (see Myths of the foreshore and seabed for a history to the Marine and Coastal Areas Act).

In short, most of the land and resource claims are pretty similar. Prior to European arrival, tangata whenua had mana for their rohe and everything within it. If tangata whenua have not given that mana to someone else, then they must retain responsibility (mana/ rangatiratanga). It doesn’t matter how many times the Crown says “but you can’t own [whatever they are currently trying to take control of]”. It doesn’t matter how much the Crown wants to take control or has always assumed that it has control of something, be it the coastline, radio spectrum, fresh water or anything else. If tangata whenua haven’t given it away, then responsibility must remain with them. Really simple stuff.

So why does it always seem so complicated?—Because it is in the interests of the Crown to make it complicated. It takes a really complicated argument to make anything resembling a case for Crown sovereignty (Moana Jackson calls these arguments legal magic), whereas tangata whenua arguments are straightforward. —Because many tau iwi want to believe that New Zealand has an honourable history and their culture is legitimately dominant, so they are invested in ignoring all the simple truths that tell a different story. Again, they must rely on magic to believe in Crown sovereignty.

Time after time, politicians show they care less about justice than they do about getting elected. Popular opinion is more important than justice, so it doesn’t matter how simple or straightforward the issues are, what the tribunal recommends, nor what the courts decide. It doesn’t matter how much money, time, energy, or lives tangata whenua put into their cases. It doesn’t matter what is fair or true. If it’s an important issue for the Crown, then the Crown will win—they own the game and they make up the rules to suit them.

As Key has said, and many instances show, Tribunal recommendations are not binding, so the Crown can ignore those it doesn’t like (eg, the Radio Spectrum claim). The Crown loses still more moral high ground, but it’s already buried under so much bullshit, what does a few more metres matter?. And if it loses in the courts, it can simply make up a new law (eg, the Ngāti Apa seabed and foreshore case). This is one reason why I hate this process—our people die fighting for justice in a system that is set up to fail them (eg, the WAI 262 claim).

But back to the freshwater case. Here’s some links in lieu of specific analysis:

• Audrey Young's summary of the freshwater claim (from Feb, 2012)
• Tapu Misa's column on ideas of property ownership and the claim: Water claim really about Maori's role as caretakers
• PDF of the interim recommendation by the Waitangi Tribunal that the Crown hold off any share float until the Tribunal reports on stage 1 of the inquiry
• Donna Hall’s summary of the interim recommendation
• Carwyn Jones’s summary: Tribunal requests crown to wait for water report
• Bryce Edwards explaining which method Key will likely use to ignore the Tribunal: Water claim – three possible paths for National

Enjoy. Or not.

Another embarrassment for crown 'justice'

I cannot write about the sentencing of Tame Iti and Te Rangikaiwhiria Kemara. I don't have the words today. My heart and thoughts are with their whanau, and those of Emily and Urs.

I appreciate what others are writing. Here are some links to wonderful, articulate responses that speak to the anger and sadness I am feeling:

Leonie Pihama at Te Wharepora Hou, Where is the justice in all this?

Maia at The Hand Mirror, What can they do to you? Whatever they want

Marty Mars at mars 2 earth, lighting a fuse

Annette Sykes Mana Party press release, A sad day for justice

There are protests organised in a number of places (links from Maia's article at THM):

PALMERSTON NORTH
Friday, 25th May 2012, 1pm, Palmerston North District Court. Bring placards, banners, chants and friends.

WELLINGTON
Friday, 25th May 2012, 12pm, Wellington High Court. Bring placards, banners, chants and friends.

AUCKLAND
Saturday, 26th May 2012, 2pm, Mt Eden Prison.

DUNEDIN
Saturday 26th May 2012, 2pm, Dunedin District Court House.

CHRISTCHURCH
Saturday 26th May 2012, 4pm, Christchurch Police Station.

There will be more. We must support each other and fight this system with its bullshit outcomes in whatever way works for us. I'd love to hear what you all are doing.

Crown shows some sense

The Crown Prosecutor applied for and was granted a stay of proceedings on the charge of participation in an organised criminal group following the massive police disaster called Operation 8. There will be no retrial. It is finally coming to an end.

The reasons given by the Crown for a stay of proceedings were (from No retrial of Urewera Four: Judge):

• the organised criminal group charge only had a maximum penalty one year more than the firearms charges so the end sentence would not have been altered much
• five years have elapsed since the charges were laid and a retrial would likely have had to be held in 2013
• the retrial would have added further expense to "what is already a high cost case"
• there had been an "unprecedented media coverage and commentary" about the case which may have jeopardised the fairness of any retrial

All of these points were also largely true of the original trial, re-enforcing the impression that the Crown never expected a conviction on the criminal group charge anyway. It looks like it was an attempt to add some weight to the charges, in order to justify the incomprehensible actions of police around October 15th 2007.

In addition, the criminal group charge allowed otherwise inadmissible evidence to be used to get the firearms convictions. In early September 2011, the Supreme Court upheld the High Court’s ruling that much of the evidence collected under Operation 8 was unlawfully obtained and could not be used. This meant that all charges against 13 accused were dropped. For the four accused of participating in a criminal group, the court found that the seriousness of the charge justified the use of unlawfully obtained evidence. Now that the criminal group charge is off the table, surely the evidence that came with it should be inadmissible. Even by the standards of the criminal justice system, it is unjust to convict these four of firearms charges based on unlawful evidence.

I want to finish by again quoting Hone Harawira on the injustices stemming from Operation 8 (Justice denied to the people of Tuhoe): There has been no apology, there has been no compensation, there has been no public acknowledgement of the need for change in police operations or for new engagement policies as a result of the litany of errors we now know as Operation 8.

For the four accused and their whānau, I am stoked that there will be no retrial. It was a relief to hear that the Crown has the ability to make a reasonable decision. For all of the people hurt by Operation 8, I wish the Crown had shown any sense earlier.

Aotearoa is not for sale, coming to a town near you

The hīkoi is well and truly underway—starting April 24th



The schedule for the hīkoi is below, along with some information about it (taken from the Facebook event). The National-led government is really getting into its anti-Māori, anti-poor, anti-education, pro-corporate, neo-liberal workload. The hīkoi is an opportunity not just to stand against asset sales, but to get involved, to connect and organise for justice. Turn up, talk to people, find out what is happening in your area—support the hīkoi.

Aotearoa is not for sale Hikoi 2012

What is this Hikoi about?
This Hikoi is to demonstrate public opposition to privatization and the continued selling of our countries natural resources, land and public services to private investors.

Who is leading the Hikoi?
This Hikoi is a non-political event providing an opportunity for all people across all sectors to oppose privatization. Therefore it is not being organized or led by any particular political party or group. The “Frontline” of the Hikoi will be led by Kaumatua (Elders) and mokopuna (grandchildren). As the hikoi move across the country it will be led by the local iwi and community members of the territory we will be passing through.

Who is welcome to participate?
This event is open to all concerned people, we urge participants to bring their friends whanau, groups, and organisations

Why now?
The government is currently attempting to push through a number of laws that will further undermine the economic sovereignty of our country. In addition large blocks of land are being made available for purchase by foreign companies and individuals.

At the same time there is currently an aggressive oil drilling and mining tendering process that is opening up large areas of both the marine environment and on land including private Maori land and reserve lands. The Government is trying to push these matters through parliament while engaging in whirlwind “consultation” processes that we don’t believe they have any integrity. Now is the time to put pressure on the government to abandon the privatization agenda.

Isn’t the government claiming that they have a political mandate from the people to proceed with privatization?
Opinion polls taken prior to last year’s election reported that 80% of New Zealanders were opposed to asset sales. It is also reported that over 75% of eligible voters did not cast a vote at the last election. The mandate that the government is relying represents a small minority of its actual citizens

Will this campaign succeed?
It will if enough people support it. When the government announced that it was going to mine conservation land 50,000 people marched in Auckland and forced the government to abandon the policy.

The FSSB Hikoi failed to change the governments mind why will this one?
The government of 2004 and successive governments and their agents have played upon the fears of the non Maori population by suggesting that Maori people are seeking “advantages” “rights” and “privileges” that will disadvantage the rights of the general population. By playing the race card they created enough political will amongst the population to deny Maori the opportunity for Maori claims to the FSSB to be heard in court. However the issue of privatization transcends the question of race and culture, all citizens of this country stand to lose from privatization and this provides an opportunity to stand together and defeat this policy.

Is the Hikoi going to arrive in Wellington only to disband and go home again?
Upon arrival in Wellington there will be a one-week series of events, activities and demonstrations that will take place in and around Wellington. Accommodation will be provided for those from out of town.

Where will the Hikoi members stay while on the road?
Marae and other community facilities will be made available for those traveling as part of the Hikoi and preference will be given to elders and children although we urge parents to be responsible about the participation of young children.

What is the alternative?
The alternative is to establish controls on the power of government that limit their ability to make up the rules or policies as they go along. To establish a vision for our society that is determined by the citizens and not the politicians and then have this vision imbedded constitutionally as the highest form of law and therefore ensure that these rights, freedoms and responsibilities cannot be tinkered with at the whim of politicians, political parties or their agents. There will be a consitutional transformation wananga in Wellington as part of the event.

Are there any rules?
Yes most certainly! No alcohol or drugs, no violence, no sexual harassment, no racism, abide by the instructions of the local leaders and road marshals Learn and abide by the rules of the Marae where you will be staying (if in doubt ask a local)

There will compulsory singing, laughing and whanaungatanga (fellowship).

What will I need to bring?
Bring two friends to provide support while you are on the road, be prepared to take reasonable measures to be self reliant so bring a small tent, blanket or sleeping bag, water bottle, good walking shoes, warm clothing and a rain proof jacket, placard and signs, flags noise makers etc. Take responsibility for any special diet needs you may have.

Do I have to come all the way?
No, Participate in your local area as the Hikoi travels through your town, you may be able to support the event in your region. Come to Wellington for the last part of the Hikoi if you are unable to participate in the whole event. THIS WILL BE THE MAJOR ASPECT OF THE HIKOI!

How can I support this event?
Tell as many people about it as possible (Face book, Twitter, Talkback radio, word of mouth) get a little group together to help organize awareness, distribute posters in your area, donate any spare produce to the local Marae where the Hikoi will be staying in your area. Contact you local organisor and offer assistance.

Where can I get more information?
Email: rangiwhero@gmail.com

In solidarity

Ka tau taku aro ki ngā tāngata toko whā i tū tonu i te kēhi o Operation 8, koutou ko Ngāi Tūhoe, ngā whānau katoa kua whakawhiua i taua kēhi. Ka whā ngā tau o te hawene me te māngeongeo. Ka tae mai te wā kōti, he wā rararu anō. Ka aroha ki a koutou. He rā ki tua.

He kupu ruarua noa iho, hei tautoko i a koutou, i te mana motuhake o Tūhoe, me te tino rangatiratanga o ngā tangata whenua katoa.

Kia kaha kia māia kia manawanui.

• Drop the charges
• Repeal the Terrorism Suppression Act
• Justice for all those raided, especially Ngāi Tūhoe
• Support Tino Rangatiratanga and Te Mana Motuhake O Tūhoe

"Māori Party might walk"—if only they would

There are two reasons why I think this is interesting. The first is John Key’s reaction. He is making sure we know the Māori Party will not walk: PM confident Maori Party will stay. He is patronising and smug, he is telling us that he has the Māori Party under control. If the Māori Party want to look like anything other than National Party pets, they need to stick to their words, and most importantly, to the meaning of their words. This cannot be like the fight to repeal the Seabed and Foreshore Act, where the Māori Party kept to the letter of their words, while betraying the spirit of the movement that created them.

The second reason this is interesting is because it is essentially about the principles of the Treaty of Waitangi. The Māori Party wants any investors in (currently) state owned enterprises to be subject to the State Owned Enterprises Act, which includes a treaty clause. That clause is probably the strongest treaty clause in New Zealand legislation:

“Nothing in this Act shall permit the Crown to act in a manner that is inconsistent with the principles of the Treaty of Waitangi.” (section 9 SOE Act 1986)

What does this section mean? John Key calls it “largely symbolic”, and as evidence says that he cannot find any examples of it being used. This is Key at his most cynical. The wording of the section is clearly not symbolic, it is binding; and there are no obvious examples of its use, because it is largely a constraint to aid SOEs in their planning—if it’s working, we shouldn’t hear about it. The real difficulty is in working out what those constraints are—what are the principles of the Treaty of Waitangi?

I’ve written a little about this before (Happy Independence Day). The principles of the Treaty may not be vague, but they are not just either. They are intended to provide a bridge between two incompatible documents:

• te Tiriti o Waitangi, signed by 500+ rangatira on behalf of their hapū, reaffirming that rangatiratanga remains with hapū, while the Crown is delegated some authority in order to manage its people; and
• the Treaty of Waitangi, signed by 30+ rangatira on behalf of their hapū (because for some reason te Tiriti wasn’t available), ceding sovereignty to the Crown, while leaving property rights with hapū.

The principles have been developed entirely by the Crown, and reflect the document that favours the Crown—the Treaty. Ironically, if one of the principles is partnership (which is what the Crown says), then the development of the principles of the Treaty of Waitangi is clearly inconsistent with the principles developed. The process did not reflect partnership, it reflected the Crown imperialism we know so well.

Retaining a section in a law the Crown wrote, which holds the Crown to principles it developed, isn’t a big ask. There’s no reason to expect section 9 would not be extended to private investors—if it is not, then the Crown is avoiding the tiny responsibility it has according to its own law (eg, the Lands decision found that land transferred from the Crown to an SOE is still available for settlement of Treaty obligations (New Zealand Maori Council v Attorney-General [1987] 1 NZLR 641). SOEs hold more resources than only land; selling parts or all of those SOEs without continuing the protection required by the Crown’s own law over all those resources is surely just a way for the Crown to get out of its obligations). In other words, the Crown set itself a very low bar for justice, but has now decided it’s too high (as it usually does when archaic concepts like justice get in the way of something it wants to do).

Do I think it’s worth fighting for section 9 to be binding on purchasers or investors in state owned enterprises? Sure, it’s useful. But it’s important to remember that it only imposes the principles of the Treaty, and every aspect of those principles is creepy and imperialistic. Meanwhile, while we are asking the Crown to consider not walking all over concessions that Māori fought hard for and won, we have less time to talk about the real issues—our own agendas and how to achieve them.

The Māori Party have been at the table with National for 3+ years, and it’s clear that National haven’t learnt a thing. They aren’t paying attention. They have no concept of partnership, or sharing power.

If they aren’t listening, what’s the point in being there?

Update: clownishly sloppy mistake shows National want to use their "mixed-ownership" model to get rid of the constraints of section 9. Apparently, (partially) state owned enterprises should behave like private companies, and clearly, private companies should not be encumbered by any obligations to tangata whenua (nice spotting at Maori Economy).

Can't afford justice

Every year, I feel bemused by the spin about what the country can’t afford, and the things our government chooses to spend money on. Last year seemed particularly stark, but it’s part of an ongoing story. What follows is a list of big payouts I can think of without trying (I’m not commenting on whether they are legitimate, just that they happened).

The government can (and apparently must) spend money to keep large corporations from going broke. The massive bail out of South Canterbury Finance ($1.7 billion, which is such a big number, I prefer to think of it as $400 per person) is the standout, but they’ve been doing it for years. Pretty much every decade there’s a corporation that needs $1-$2 billion to keep up its good work. In the 1990s it was Bank of New Zealand (which got a $1 billion hand out from the government); in the 2000s it was Air New Zealand ($885 million). No doubt the government is giving a bunch of smaller handouts to other corporations that are too paltry to notice. They must be budgeting on $2-$3 billion dollars this decade. This is money the government is simply giving to companies for no reason other than that they screwed up.

Last year, the government decided it could afford to pay 25 % towards repairing “leaky homes”, estimated to cost at least $2 billion. Again, the government didn’t cause the problem with the leaky buildings, it just wants to help out.

The government reckons the country can afford a disaster fund of around $6 billion. Christchurch’s earthquakes will cost more than this, and the government estimates it will need to put in another $1 billion or so to meet its obligations. Again, the government is in no way at fault for the damage, but it can afford to help out.

From 2003 until 2009, the government could afford to set aside over $2 billion per year to build the New Zealand Superannuation Fund (estimated value at November 2011 of $17.6 billion). This is money that the government is saving, so in the future it can give it back to us.

For the 2011/2012 year, the government has a budget of around $82 billion. Of this, they set aside around $3.4 billion for “Defence”, about $9.6 billion for superannuation, and around $3.7 billion servicing debt interest. As a reference point, New Zealand’s estimated gross domestic product for 2011/2012 is around $210 billion.

You’re probably wondering if I have a point. The Crown consistently claims it cannot afford to pay anything like realistic or fair compensation to tangata whenua for the crimes of colonisation, even when it is proven to be at fault, even though it is proven to be benefiting from those crimes. In fact, the Crown claims it can’t afford to fairly compensate tangata whenua for resources before it has even taken them (for example, in taking, dividing up and allocating fisheries or airwaves, or in confiscating the foreshore and seabed). When the Crown decides how much it needs to compensate for its own wrongdoing, it does so not based on what the wronged party believes is fair, nor on an independent ruling on just compensation, nor even on negotiations with the wronged party. The Crown approaches the question of what it ought to pay, by thinking about what it can afford. And the answer it has come up with is somewhere between $1-$2 billion total to cover all claims, whatever they may be for.

It was in the mid-90s that the Crown came up with the figure of $1 billion maximum to settle all “Treaty” claims (you will remember this was about the time they had a spare $1 billion to help out BNZ). They called this the fiscal cap. After the rejection of the fiscal envelope, the Crown no longer refers to the fiscal cap, but they are still working to it (see posttreatysettlements.org.nz).

To be clear, I don’t begrudge people their payouts from the EQC, or their superannuation, or whatever (although I certainly do begrudge the corporate handouts). What I hate is the double standard. Why are tangata whenua less worthy of fair compensation from the Crown for resources the Crown took from them and then made a profit on? Why don’t the media and public get excited about this? If we can muster outrage that the EQC or council has mucked someone around for a year or so, what about people who have been fighting for justice for generations?

Why is there so little pressure on the Crown to even consider what a fair resolution with tangata whenua might look like. If the Crown can afford $3 billion+ per year for defence, or to save $2 billion+ per year towards future bills, but can’t afford more than $2 billion total for Treaty settlements, I’m pretty sure it’s not trying very hard. It certainly isn’t trying when, in creating a new property right as it did with fisheries and airwaves, it must be forced by the courts to set a small fraction aside for tangata whenua. It really isn’t trying when it gives itself the entire foreshore and seabed, even denying tangata whenua the right to test their ownership in court. And it doesn’t seem interested in other ways to rebalance its relationships with tangata whenua. It is stuck in defensiveness and denial.

The Crown claims it can only afford to offer us crumbs and scraps while it feasts at our table. It can find extra for corporate incompetence, disasters, the future even—but not for fixing its own misdeeds. Until it commits to balancing the relationship between tangata whenua and tangata tiriti, our grievances will live on. We will continue to bang on about sovereignty, justice and tino rangatiratanga; we will continue to educate and to organise. We will grind away. The Crown will find it cannot afford to ignore us.

Community justice

I want to support the writers and distributors of the open letter about Omar Hamed (also responses here, here, and probably plenty of other places). I have read comments to the effect that the letter shows the failure of a community response to his abusive and violent behaviour. Those comments are wrong—the letter is part of the response to his behaviour, and also a response to rape culture in general. If Omar will not take this seriously, then it is important that everyone around him is aware that he is a danger to women. That takes power away from Omar, and empowers women (and people who care about women) to make decisions about how to treat him and how to be safer. I have read comments that the women should go to the police. Such comments are wrong for at least two reasons. First, because they are dictating how women should respond to sexual violence—Omar’s behaviour is the problem, not what women affected by it chose to do about it. Second, because the state’s response to sexual violence is notoriously shit, and we should not be coercing people into using it. And anyway, so what?—we need ways of protecting ourselves and responding to violence whether or not people choose to use the state.

Update: not afraid of ruins wrote a great post, the radical left needs to be a safe space for women

Below is an essay I wrote and distributed a few years ago that I think is relevant. Although it was directed at anarchist organising, it is equally relevant to any anti-state organising.

Justice without the State

As anarchists, we reject the state and its abusive criminal justice system, but we still need to deal with conflict and abuse in our midst. A justice system must aim both to reduce the harm from any conflict, and to protect those with less power from those with more. It is immature to criticise the state system without developing alternatives for our own communities; it reminds me of rebellious teenagers criticising their parents' lifestyle, but refusing to leave home and all its luxuries. A mature movement will develop its own justice system, from its own values, to meet its own needs.

Fortunately, there is a huge amount of knowledge and experience that we can turn to for help and inspiration. The majority of human history has relied on community justice models for solving problems, whereas the state system is a only a late-comer. This essay takes a brief look at different models of justice. As a reminder of where we are, I start by listing the problems I have with the state system. I look at some customary justice models practiced in communities today, as well as restorative justice. Restorative justice uses the principles and methods of customary justice, but the term usually refers to programmes that operate outside a customary setting, or that have been endorsed by the state. There are criticisms of customary and restorative justice, some of which lead to the development of transformative programmes. Finally I discuss the relevance of this for anarchists. My ideas on community justice come from an anarchism where the community is as important as individuals. My definition of community reflects this: a group of people who are accountable to each other, each member acknowledges the existence of common values, obligations, and understandings and feels a loyalty and commitment to the community that is expressed through the desire and willingness to advance its interests (Gyekye 1996:35). It may not be what we have now, but it is surely what we are working to build.

State criminal justice system

Andrea Smith (2005) argues that an understanding of power, control and violence means that we need to address interpersonal, state and structural violence simultaneously.¹ A truly just system would protect the powerless from the powerful, but the state protects those with power from those with none. By defending the powerful against challenge, the state system ensures that they continue to dominate and control—this can only lead to abuse and violence against the least powerful. Capitalism is a system created so a few people can get huge amounts of money from the work of many, many low paid people. The workers have little control over the system. They are kept in line by habit, the remote chance that they may move further up the pyramid, and coercion from the state justice system. State justice creates an illusion of a safe and functional system by criminalising dissent. Police are encouraged to threaten, bully and terrorise those on the margins, simply for being different. Loaded slogans like ‘building safer communities together’² protect those who conform from seeing that reality.

The state justice system exists to protect its own interests and values, and to maintain the status quo. In New Zealand, European law is considered the only legitimate law, reflecting European values, including individuality, competition, patriarchy, and private property. Other cultures, including the indigenous culture, are expected to fit in, to adopt European values, and to ignore their own.

When the state system took away our responsibility to deal with conflict and violence in our communities, it also took away the skill and confidence to deal with it ourselves. When the law is enforced as a moral code, it takes away our power to develop our own values. We need to set up alternative ways of working out our problems and staying safe, and we need to organise against the state system.

In summary, state justice is founded on inequality: at all stages it is racist³, anti-poor, anti-youth, anti-woman. State justice is founded on violence: police, lawyers, judges, guards, social workers are given power over victims and offenders, and there are few among us who haven’t been abused by their power. Victims have almost no power in the state system, and are often re-victimised and bullied by the process. Above all, the state system doesn’t work for anyone who actually needs it. It is effective at protecting the property rights of land owners, but not the safety of women. If the state system does not protect homeless people, poor people, brown people, young people, women, etc, then what is it good for?

Different models of community justice

Customary justice systems

Traditional societies have no state system, and maintain order through equality⁴, respect, and collective responsibility (Elechi 2006:11). Until the state took control, conflicts were resolved locally, involving everyone affected by a dispute, and aiming to restore community balance. These systems of justice therefore seem an obvious place to start when looking at models for community justice. I am defining customary justice as that which has evolved with the local belief system over generations to solve local problems. The customary justice systems I discuss are those still being practiced. Local religion is central, and customary law is indigenous to the communities that use it. Many books and articles have been written about the local varieties of customary justice systems (eg van Ness & Strong 1997, Mead 2003, Elechi 2006, etc). My brief discussion is based largely on an African justice system (as described by Elechi 2006), a proposed Māori justice system, and Native American justice systems (as described by Smith 2005).

In traditional communities conflict was generally between family members, and community strength was necessary for individual survival. Customary law developed to keep or restore community functioning. This means trying to find solutions that people see as just and fair, and that work long-term. It means the ‘rights’ of individuals are less important than in the Western legal tradition⁵. It also means that customary legal systems generally don’t have a set of rigid rules, and aren’t aiming for consistency either in process or solution. Instead, they focus on the fairness of the process, and the principles or values that are important, to find the most peaceful and enduring solution for the people affected. Social solidarity is a primary feature (Elechi 2006:18).

Oko Elechi describes the Afikpo model of justice. In the community he is from it is an offense against the community to report a crime or take a conflict to the state courts or police until the community had mediated on the matter (p 6). The indigenous justice system is perceived to be more effective and legitimate than the Nigerian state criminal justice system (imposed under colonisation). The goal of Afikpo justice is to repair the harm done to victims and communities by offenders. This means restoring the victim’s emotional and material loss, as well as empowering and vindicating them. The community gives appropriate support for victims and their families. Offenders and their families are held responsible, they are persuaded to compensate the victim and to apologise to the victim, the victim’s family and the community. The system is humane: the community supports the offender through teaching and healing, but the offender must first acknowledge the wrong, then, show remorse, shame, and accountability through reparation and expiation (p xvi). Decisions are made by consensus of all participants, which includes the victim, the offender and all others affected. The system commands nearly total acceptance and participation, whereas the Nigerian state criminal justice system is ineffective and largely ignored by the Afikpo people (p 2). It is most successful when offenders are strongly connected with others in the community, and value their love, respect and relationships (ie, when there is more to lose). However, in its use now, the Afikpo system excludes serious violent crimes, which are handled by the state system.

A Māori Criminal Justice Colloquium in late 2009 discussed problems with the New Zealand state justice system, and has set up a working group to develop an alternative system for Māori. Moana Jackson argued that the principles of tikanga⁶ provide a process for addressing social harm. A Māori justice system could be as simple as reconstituting kawa⁷, not just in our marae, but in our communities and everywhere that we are. His vision is a system which helps us deal with wrong by re-enforcing what is right, which helps us deal with hurt by dealing with those who are hurt, by helping us deal with injustice by re-defining what is injustice and what is just in our terms (Jackson, 27/11/2008). Edward Durie (27/11/2008) proposed making the criminal justice system irrelevant, in much the same way that the Afikpo system does in Africa. He suggested setting up a system that uses the mediation and conflict resolution skills our communities already have, instead of resorting to state solutions. Te Wānanga o Raukawa already has such a system: staff and students at Te Wānanga work under te kawa o te ako, and an internal disputes process deals with breaches of kawa. The goal is for the mana⁸ of everyone involved (including that of Te Wānanga) to be upheld or restored. Even serious offences, such as sexual assault, are handled by this process rather than referral to the state system. Te kawa o te ako is effective for maintaining the learning environment. I hope, but don’t know, that it is empowering for victims. Staff and students understand the importance of kawa; those who breach kawa may participate in the resolution process for different reasons, such as to continue to work or learn at Te Wānanga, to avoid the shame of being excluded from Wānanga, or simply because they see it as fair.

Many Native American communities⁹ are developing their own systems for dealing with criminal behaviour based on traditional methods. Smith (2005) looks at the ability of these programmes to deal with sexual and domestic violence. She gives an example of a programme where the sexual/ domestic violence working team talks to the offender giving the choice to participate or go through the criminal justice system. If they choose the community model, everyone involved (victim, perpetrator and advocate, family, friends, and the working team) develops a healing contract, and everyone in the community is responsible for holding the offender accountable to the contract. Offenders must deal with the humiliation of being known as an offender and being held to account by the community. They must work to being forgiven by the community and the victim. The State system would remove these offenders from society. When these serious but common offences are dealt with in the community, offenders have a better chance of developing ethical relationships.

These programmes are often very effective, particularly when the communities are isolated and there is less opportunity for social connections outside the community. However, some programmes are unable to deal well with sexual and domestic violence. Many Native domestic violence advocates argue that prison is more appropriate than community interventions, or that the threat of prison is necessary for keeping offenders in their programmes. Programmes focused on maintaining community or family unity often pressure victims to forgive and move on, or blame the victim if she is an adult.

"Traditional approaches toward justice presume that the community will hold a perpetrator accountable for his crime. However, community members often do not regard sexual violence as a crime when cases involve adult women, and they will not hold the offender accountable. Before such approaches can be effective… we must implement community education programmes that will sufficiently change community attitudes about these issues." (Pp 141-2)

To summarise, customary justice systems use the wisdom of ancestors that has developed from generations of trial and error, and which is stored in the local religion. Key principles of the systems are that they involve everyone affected by the conflict or offending; that they are more concerned with a fair process than they are with rules for that process; that they are focused on vindicating and upholding the dignity of the victims; that offenders are held accountable to the victim and the community; that the community is responsible for supporting the victim and holding the offender to account; and, that the systems are therefore dependent on a strong community with common values. There are potential problems with customary justice and I discuss these together with restorative justice in the following section. To me, the main point is that community justice systems are legitimate when they have been developed and maintained by the communities that use them, and they are accountable to those communities. Customary justice provides a starting point for thinking about what we might do.

Restorative justice

In its customary setting, restorative justice has been the dominant model of criminal justice throughout most of human history for all the world’s peoples (Braithwaite 1998:1). In the 1970s, some people working with offenders took many of the principles of customary justice, and began applying them outside their traditional settings. A group of workers and academics saw this as a new (old) direction for justice, and came up with the name restorative justice. The term is sometimes applied to customary justice models, but I am using it here to refer to its use in non-traditional environments. Restorative justice models look at actions that cause social harm, rather than at ‘crime’ (defined as a violation of the state and its laws). Like the customary justice systems that it comes from, restorative justice is focused on restoring victims, offenders and communities, and repairing that harm, including harm to relationships (as opposed to punitive or rehabilitative justice, which focus respectively on punishing or rehabilitating the offender). Restorative justice involves the victim, the offender, and anyone else affected by a conflict all working to find a resolution. It is based on the experience that people are more likely to honour a resolution if they participate in finding it.

An aim of restorative justice is to restore compassion to the justice process. It is victim focused. Solutions come from looking at the harm done to victims, and exploring their rights and well-being, rather than the behaviour of offenders (Van Ness 1997). Care needs to be taken to avoid re-victimising the victim; they must not feel under any pressure to participate, and the process and outcome must be desirable to them¹⁰. The offender is required to accept responsibility and to engage with those affected (the victim and the community) in identifying harm and repair. Howard Zehr (1997:68) defines the problem: wrong creates obligations; taking responsibility for those obligations is the beginning of genuine accountability. He summarises the process into three questions: who has been hurt, what are their needs, and whose obligation is it to correct this (Zehr 2002). However, there are very relevant criticisms of restorative justice, which also apply to customary justice.

Criticisms of Customary and Restorative Justice

Both customary and restorative justice are open to the tyranny of the majority. They reflect the dominant values in the community, and may not ensure the safety of minorities or less powerful members of the community. For example, restorative justice tends to work well for property crime, because the majority of people understand property ownership and want to keep property safe. It can fail to work for sexual or domestic violence, because many people will blame a woman (in a way they would never blame a property owner), and don’t value the safety of women enough to make it work. Like the State system, community and restorative justice systems may reinforce privilege and unjust power structures. For example, more articulate and educated people may be more able to talk their way out of real accountability; socially popular people, or those central to the community in some way, may not be held to account, whereas socially marginalised people generally are; and richer people are more able to offer compensation.

For restorative or customary justice to be effective, communities have to be totally committed to holding offenders to account, rather than respecting their privacy and keeping a comfortable relationship with them. For example, if a community will not actively watch and challenge abusive partners (this includes telling other people of the abuse), it will fail to keep survivors of domestic violence safe. Smith (2005) argues that a community’s desire to put an issue behind them and return to normal relations means that restorative justice models often promote community silence and denial around issues of sexual/ violence without concern for the safety of survivors(p 160).

A basic assumption of restorative justice is that our society is fundamentally fine and fair, and the best outcome is restoration of that fineness. Restorative justice looks for individual solutions to individual problems rather than looking for systemic problems. Ruth Morris (1999:8) argues that you can’t restore a community to wholeness that never was whole. For example, what solutions can restorative justice offer for sexual violence in societies with a rape culture, or for any ‘crime’ on colonised lands?

In summary, like customary systems restorative justice comes from an understanding of crime as social harm rather than law-breaking. Crime is a conflict between individuals that results in harm to victims, communities and the offender. The aim of restorative justice is to reconcile those affected as well as repairing the harm caused. The process is participatory, involving victims, offenders and their communities, rather than the state. However, both restorative and customary justice are open to the tyranny of the majority. These systems require a common understanding of abuse and a commitment from the community that isn’t always met. Finally, by focusing on individuals, restorative justice approaches cannot change a culture of abuse.

Clearly, there isn’t a simple solution. We need to try to deal with the violence and abuse within our communities now, and customary/ restorative justice programmes provide a humane method for doing this. Simultaneously, we need to transform our communities into ones that will not breed and tolerate abuse in the future.

Transformative justice

Education is transformative. It can change the way we understand control, power and powerlessness. It can help us recognise the ways that we are abusive, controlling, violent, even when that behaviour is considered acceptable by many people. It can show us tools, and give us skills and confidence to use them to resolve conflict or approach problems non-violently.

Programmes that aim to change the culture of a community as a way of making it safer, rather than treating problems as solely the fault of individuals, have been called transformative. These programmes understand that the context of violence is important: how the behaviour has been learnt, established, practised and maintained. This means that we are all partially responsible for the violence in our communities: rather than simply holding offenders accountable to the community, transformative justice also holds the community accountable for teaching and condoning violent behaviour and failing to teach alternatives. It aims to correct this, by teaching alternatives to violence and creating communities that do not accept violence as normal. Transformative programmes may focus on victims and perpetrators of social harm (the National Network of Stopping Violence Programmes is an example), or on community outreach (the It's Not Okay campaign and the many in-school programmes about healthy relationships are examples of this). Both methods are essential. Transformative justice aims to build communities that are committed to understanding and condemning violence and abuse, it is insufficient to educate the victim or the perpetrator if the [community] condone and collude with violence (Second Māori Taskforce on Whānau Violence, 2004:32).

What does this mean for us?

Can this work in an anarchist community? We don’t have the family ties of traditional communities, we don’t have a common religion (even though our politics have some common ground, how far that goes is debatable). Everything we offer is perhaps more easily found somewhere else, where there are less expectations on or accountability for behaviour. It is demonstrably easy to leave an anarchist community when challenged on behaviour. A community justice model could work if 1) we really want it to, 2) we are more obviously intentional in the building of our communities, and 3) we start doing it.

What follows is a list of points for considering how community justice might work.

• Community justice works best when there is a community. Smith found that customary justice was most effective in isolated communities, because the community was more important to offenders, and they weren’t able to just dump one set of friends who were trying to hold them to account, and move on to another group. Modern communities tend to be ill-defined and permeable. I would prefer not to achieve the goal of a safe community by having people leave if called on abusive behaviour. Ideally, people would want to fix things because they see it as their responsibility. The benefits of being part of the community have to be enough that most people would choose to stay and fix things rather than leave. Is this possible?
• Community justice is easiest where the well-being of the community is considered more important than the rights of the individual¹¹, eg kin-based communities. This means that individuals are always considering the effects of their actions on other members of the community. It is difficult to create this within a society that is overwhelmingly individualist. How do individualistic values, like personal freedom and privacy, interact with socialist values, like collective responsibility and cooperation? In most of us, these values are constantly in conflict, and we each shift around on this continuum. Some of us will respond to being called on behaviour by claiming our rights, others will willingly take on responsibility. Do we feel like a community has a right/ responsibility to hold individuals to account? What level of coercion is acceptable, and under what circumstances?
• Community justice works when there are shared values. Traditionally, there was the common belief system/ religion as a code of ethics. How does this work in a group that rejects the dominant culture, that is characterised by non-conformity, and that is still defining appropriate principles for behaviour? What does our morality or code of ethics look like? It’s easy to say ‘our community is against any form of oppression, sexism, inter-personal violence, etc’. In reality, those values conflict with other values that we don’t usually talk about, like having a nice time with our friends, not getting involved in other people’s lives, making our own choices about how we live, and not being told what to do. If I hear that one of my friends is behaving abusively and hurting someone, will I confront them the next time I see them? Will I avoid talking about it because I want to hang out with my friend and I don’t like difficult conversations?
• Community justice works when communities are united against a behaviour. When someone is challenged on that behaviour, even a couple of people undermining that stance can be enough to give the person a way out of feeling responsible for putting things right.
• Community justice works when it is focused on the needs of the people who have been hurt. If ownership is not with those directly involved, and the community (or a working group) takes control of abuse in the community, then we are copying the bureaucracy of the state system. We are taking control away from the victim and others affected. The process needs to stay participatory and not be controlled by experts deciding what is best for us, directing, arbitrating, judging, rather than mediating and facilitating. Are we capable of letting go and actually trusting those involved to direct the process?
• Strong communities have the skills and trust to resolve conflicts early, before they turn into big problems that need a formal intervention. We need to get better at challenging each other on shit behaviour. This means we need to get better at letting people know when their behaviour is hurting us, but it also means we need to get better at welcoming and hearing those challenges, however they come. How do we hear criticism without being defensive or criticising the process? How do we make our boundaries clear without being controlling? Building a culture that supports and models good communication is fundamental.
• A fair system needs to be centered on the most marginalised, for example queer, working-class, brown, women, and those who can’t rely on their strong social networks, university informed arguments, or most radical rhetoric. Community justice seems pointless to me if it just repeats the crime of the state system in protecting the most powerful.
• We need to be honest about where our communities are at, and not pretend we’re safer or more enlightened than we really are, or that abuse isn’t a problem for us. For example, Smith (Incite statement Gender Violence and the Prison Industrial Complex) warns of a romanticized notion of communities, which have yet to demonstrate their commitment and ability to keep women and children safe or seriously address the sexism and homophobia that is deeply embedded within them. Anti-prison advocate Herman Bianchi claims that even with the best community programmes, there should still be prisons, for dangerous violent people, and for those people who have received the opportunity to do penitence, to come to reconciliation, to settle the dispute, and refuse, refuse, refuse. Whether or not we agree, we need to face this honestly. Statements that we don’t need prisons or police because the majority of crime is property, poverty or drug related, offer no answer to the huge amount of abuse in society and in our communities. We need to have some response to that abuse.

The way forward

I see three parallel strategies as essential: creating systems that keep us safe now; educating ourselves and others about abuse to create a culture that is safer; and, fighting the fucked-up and abusive state system.

1. We need to start now, but we don’t need to start big.

We don't need to start with a large, well-defined, functional community, and we don’t need to find a single solution that can be used in every situation. My first step towards creating something that keeps us safe is working in community with those closest to me, ie a small intentional group who have some common values. From here, I can gain skills in talking about values and confronting poor behaviour. I can take these skills to my other relationships. I don’t have the power to make anyone change their behaviour, but I do have the power to participate in ethical relationships where my values are reflected. I can choose relationships that re-enforce good behaviour and challenge poor behaviour, and I can refuse to participate in other relationships. When I need to, I can call on other people to help me. If enough people are thinking, working and organising on this, we will come up with a set of things that have worked and things that haven’t. This body of knowledge can help us build better systems.

2. We need to be talking about abuse.

We must get better at naming abusive behaviour when we see it, and at putting pressure on people for as long as it takes until they change their abusive behaviour. We should aim (i) to talk about abuse when it is relevant rather than avoid it, (ii) to educate ourselves so that we have a common understanding of abuse and how to respond to it, and (iii) to organise groups, workshops and programmes to talk and educate others about abuse. Educating ourselves and others is necessary to avoid re-victimising survivors of abuse, and to support rather than attack those people who are challenging abusive behaviour. For me, it has been important to start by looking at and healing from the abuse in my life, before I can think about wider education. My next step has been working in a small closed collective where we have been able to build trust. We talk about the abuse around us, how it affects us, how we contribute to it, what we’re doing to fight it. There are many organisations educating about abuse that we can learn from and support.

3. We need to be organised, creative and strong in our opposition to the state system.

We need coherent messages that expose the violence of the state criminal justice system, while still acknowledging that interpersonal violence is a real issue that needs solutions.

Summary

There is no denying that there is behaviour in anarchist communities that needs to be addressed: there are conflicts, abuses of power, abusive relationships, violence. We need to have a constructive way of dealing with conflict and poor behaviour, and a way of keeping safe from violence and dangerous behaviour, without involving the state. Communities all over the world are working on this, using customary, restorative, and transformative justice models. We can organise now to build skills and practice methods. It isn’t enough to leave it to some future to resolve, or to take our failures as a reason to stop trying. We can build healthy communities, we can create strategies for sorting even our worst shit without involving the state, and we can expose the state as the bully it is. We need to start now and to support each other’s work towards this.

Notes

1. Smith gives colonisation, police brutality and prisons as examples of state violence, and racism and poverty as examples of structural violence.
2. Public relations slogan of the New Zealand police.
3. The mean incarceration rate for all New Zealanders in 2008 was 179 per 100 000, for Māori it was 617 per 100 000 (http://wdmzpub01.stats.govt.nz/wds/TableViewer/tableView.aspx); compared with the OECD mean of 150 per 100 000, or excluding the US 130 per 100 000 (World Prison Population List, 8th Edition. UK Home Office, 2008).
4. Elechi uses the term equality to mean that valuing the contribution of all community members is important in conflict resolution, rather than that all community members have equal status or prestige.
5. Traditionally, a variety of penalties could be threatened, such as shaming, death or banishment, that are now illegal or less effective for coercing offenders (for example, in such interdependent communities, banishment could be considered worse than death, now it is often barely a punishment).
6. Used here to mean Māori law
7. Used here to mean the principles that Māori law is based on
8. Used here to mean something similar to reputation and respect
9. This is especially true of Canada, where the sovereign status of Native nations gives them the opportunity to develop their own community-based justice programmes.
10. The process generally involves a mediator, and meetings can be held separately with victim and offender, who may choose not to meet face to face at all.
11. This doesn’t mean that individuals aren’t important. Gyekye (1996:36) describes it as emphasis on activity and success of the wider society, not necessarily to the detriment of the individual, but rather to the wellbeing of every individual member of society. Even though these communities are usually hierarchical, they also usually operate by consensus, in that anyone can participate in a decision that affects them.

References

Oral Sources

Durie, Edward “Maori and the Criminal Justice System” Panel 2, Maori Criminal Justice Colloquium: Te Ao Tara Aitu ki te Ara Matua. Napier, 27 November, 2008.

Jackson, Moana “Key Note Address” to the Maori Criminal Justice Colloquium: Te Ao Tara Aitu ki te Ara Matua. Napier, 27 November, 2008.

Published Material

Braithwaite (1998) 'Restorative Justice: Assessing an Immodest Theory and a Pessimistic Theory.' In Michael Tonry (ed) Crime and Justice, Vol. 25: An Annual Review of Research. University of Chicago Press, Chicago IL.

Elechi, O Oko (2006) Doing Justice Without the State: The Afikpo (Ehugbo) Nigeria Model. Routledge, New York NY.

Gyekye, K (1996) African Cultural Values: An Introduction. Sankofa Publishing, Accra, Ghana.

Mead, Hirini Moko (2003) Tikanga Māori: Living by Māori Values. Huia Publishers, Wellington.

Morris, R (1999) 7 Steps from Misery Justice to Social Transformation. Rittenhouse, A New Vision, Toronto.

Second Māori Taskforce on Whānau Violence (2004) Transforming Whānau Violence: A Conceptual Framework. Te Puni Kōkiri, Wellington. Smith, Andrea (2005) Conquest: Sexual Violence and American Indian Genocide. South End Press, Cambridge MA.

Van Ness, D and HK Strong (1997) Restoring Justice. Anderson Publishing, Cincinnati OH.

Zehr, H (1997) Restorative Justice: The Concept. Corrections Today 59: 68-70

Zehr, H (2002) The Little Book of Restorative Justice. Good Books, Intercourse PA.