There is a considerable surface allure to the National Urban Maori Authority's idea of paying benefits to Maori social service agencies rather than individuals. Controlling beneficiaries' spending would, at the very least, ease the frustration of those who witness money being frittered away, often on addictions. Here would be the opportunity to ensure families received the necessities of food, rent, electricity and clothing. Here also would be the chance to cut benefits to those refusing to use services such as family support, early childhood education programmes and addiction treatment.
The proposal would also, as the authority's chief executive, John Tamihere, suggests, represent a concrete response to the brutal killing of twin baby boys Chris and Cru Kahui in South Auckland. This time, it would not be a case of much discussion and debate but nothing getting done.
Scratch beneath the surface, however, and the flaws in the proposal become obvious. Many of those mentioned by critics have centred on practicalities. The Prime Minister, for example, has raised the possibility of money being misused by the agency charged with paying beneficiaries' household bills. She worries also about the state's responsibility for monitoring the benefit system on behalf of all taxpayers. Then there is the cost of imposing another level of social service administration. And a host of more elementary questions, such as the determination of what represents suitable food or good-value clothing.
In reality, none of these issues, taken in isolation, rule the authority's proposal out of bounds. As Mr Tamihere says, only a relatively small hard core of beneficiaries would be involved. And much of what he now suggests was once undertaken by voluntary welfare groups, who took responsibility for families deemed by the Department of Social Welfare to be incapable of spending the benefit wisely. The practice was ended on the grounds that it infringed human rights. It was, said beneficiary advocates, akin to treating people like children.
They were right, if perhaps not quite in the way they imagined. The main defect of the authority's proposal lies not so much in the practicalities but in its psychological message. The threat of beneficiaries developing an unhealthy dependence on the state is ever-present. This malaise can, as Mr Tamihere says, envelop second and even third generations. The authority's plan risks ingraining it further by creating an even greater dependency. Not only would the state provide money but it would take away responsibility for even the basics of living.
This would run counter to the objectives of fostering self-respect or restoring battered pride. People's confidence and initiative would be further dulled. The loss of yet more control over their lives would diminish the prospect of them seeing themselves as holding a stake in society. Or of gaining the employment that would provide the foothold for regaining their independence.
The National Urban Maori Authority's plan, however well-intentioned, would over time promote the opposite of what is envisaged. As such, it represents much more than the step too far discerned by many critics. Maori social service agencies are already active in helping beneficiaries manage their money, but they rely on people seeking out their assistance. Some struggling families may never contemplate such a step. For them, the cycle of dependency will remain unbroken. A means must be found to instil in them a sense of pride and purpose. That way should not involve creating an even greater sense of dependence.
<i>Editorial:</i> Plan won't break cycle of welfare
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