Editorial: Ending a culture of failure

The Herald's week-long series "Warriors Still" sprang from the saddest, most unpromising of circumstances. Its genesis lay in the horrific murder of babies Chris and Cru Kahui, and Helen Clark's view that the twins' family was a throwback to Alan Duff's novel Once Were Warriors. Social issues reporter Simon Collins quickly discovered that, a generation on, many families in Rotorua's Ford Block, the setting for the book, remain trapped in a violent, liquor-ridden lifestyle.

But as the series progressed, it became apparent that some things had changed. Many agencies, organisations and individuals are, by dint of inspiration and hard work, making a difference. More important, it became possible to judge what more is needed to dismantle the culture of violence.

Certain strands run through the Ford Block. At the core are high unemployment, benefit dependency, alcohol and drugs, poor education, lamentable parenting, and an approval of violence, inside and outside the home. The consequence is a malaise, in which feelings of worthlessness are intermingled with a lack of hope. As one resident remarked: "There's not much work for us Maoris. You've got to be clued up in the head."

The Herald series examined programmes tackling aspects of this culture. There is, for example, the Ministry of Justice's work with community groups to deal with liquor and violence. And the Maori social service agency trying to melt hard-man attitudes to women by reviving an ancient Maori belief that women are tapu. Ford Block schools are showing children the outside world, either through adventure-based learning or trips overseas.

Each of these and others have their value. Each addresses consequences of urbanisation and the breakdown of traditional tribal strictures. It would help also if, as the Tamaki Ki Raro Trusts' Sharon Wilson suggests, families received practical help as well as the benefit - and a dose of positivity besides. Paying people to do nothing, and leaving them to it, merely ingrains a culture.

Equally, a scheme designed to curb child abuse by allowing Maori to call in help from Maori social services, hospital visiting groups and marae before a crisis occurs deserves to blossom beyond its trial in Counties-Manukau. In using kuia (older women) as mentors for troubled families, it allows tradition to play an important role.

That feature provides a likely pointer towards solving the final pieces of the Ford Block puzzle. Underlying all useful schemes is the acquisition of purpose and pride. And a sense of belonging. Some in the block have found this in gangs. But most, deprived of it, have surrendered to torpor. The most logical, and most explicit, way out of these deadend streets is the stimulating of a cultural identity, and a reconnection with Maori culture.

Encouragingly, this is happening more and more. Rotorua has about 20 kohanga reo producing Maori-speaking children and a growing number of kura kaupapa Maori. Te Wananga o Aotearoa is active teaching te reo to parents. In each instance, values and a sense of community are side-products of teaching language and culture. In each case, most people emerge with a greater sense of self-esteem, responsibility and pride. Such individuals, rather than becoming isolated from mainstream society, are better equipped to approach it with poise and purpose.

This immersion is occurring only because Maori relish the opportunity. There is a thirst to reconnect. Quenching this, and building on the benefits, may be the key to finally consigning Once Were Warriors to history.