MSA

The emergence of Covid-19 disrupted most aspects of life, creating a high degree of uncertainty and unpredictability about the future. Knowledge from a place of lived experience offers insights and strategies to better understand how to live, grow and thrive through the difficulties that people who experience mental health challenges, other disabling health conditions, people of color, and people from lower socio-economic backgrounds have overcome.

Published in Taylor & Francis Online

We report on a programmatic effort to investigate how lessons learned through lived experience could be useful to persons who are dealing with a destabilizing situation like this pandemic for the first time, especially mental health providers. Three listening sessions over Zoom were conducted to gather information, views and personal accounts related to the current pandemic. Twenty four people with experience of mental health challenges and people living with disabilities, of various ethnic and racial backgrounds, participated in the sessions.

We suggest that the recovery framework can be helpful to address the current crisis; we challenge traditional notions of normality; and finally, we recommend that providers and systems of care adopt a framework that addresses health inequities and human rights.

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10 September 2020

Alleged abuse, forced separation of families, poor healthcare, unsafe working conditions for young children. A culture of domination and control.

Yet the Charities Services says these allegations from dozens of former Glorivale members are not “oppressive” enough for it to investigate.

Stuff earlier revealed the Gloriavale Leavers Support Trust met with Charities Services last December and presented a letter signed by 35 recent Gloriavale leavers asking the agency to open another investigation.

Published in Stuff

The letter set out a host of concerns, including alleged physical, emotional and spiritual abuse, sick children being left alone because their parents had to work, no private space for families, and pressure for members to lie to outside agencies such as Oranga Tamariki and police.

As one leaver earlier said: “The people at Gloriavale are not free. They are denied basic human rights.”

On August 17, Charities Services general manager Natasha Weight told the trust it would not open another investigation at this stage.

The letter, seen by Stuff, said the trust’s letter was subject to “robust consideration” by senior Charities Services staff.

All the information was considered with “an open mind”. It included complaints and concerns assessed during the regulator’s earlier investigation completed in 2016.

Weight said a registered charity’s behaviour needed to be of a “very serious and systemic nature” to reach the level of oppression.

“While we acknowledge that the behaviour outlined in the complaint is upsetting for those involved, we believe the incidents do not reach the required level of seriousness to be considered oppressive.”

A factor in the regulator’s decision was the preparedness of the Christian Church Community Trust – the registered charity behind the community – to engage with Charities Services to address any issues raised after the 2016 investigation.

“We understand that this is not the outcome that you were hoping for. However … we can only undertake investigations where we believe there is clear evidence of serious wrongdoing as determined by the [Charities] Act,” the letter to the trust said.

Gloriavale Leavers’ Support Trust manager Liz Gregory was “extremely disappointed” there would not be another investigation.

“If they can’t apply the definition of oppression to Gloriavale, then they may as well remove that provision for investigation. There is no group in our nation more oppressive than Gloriavale.”

Gregory said she had received a flurry of phone calls and emails after informing leavers of the news.

“Some said they had been weeping at the news, because they know their loved ones inside Gloriavale are also wanting change. They believe a properly run investigation would reveal a raft of major issues.”

Leaver Hope Harrison said people in prison “have more freedom and less oppression” than people at Gloriavale.

“In Gloriavale they can’t control where they live, work sit at the tables, furniture in their bedroom, what shoes they wear. How they wear their clothing. What time their meals are, whether they go to meal or miss it.”

It comes after a spokeswoman for the Royal Commission of Inquiry into Abuse in Care, established in 2018, confirmed it had Gloriavale on its radar, and an investigation was possible.

Weight confirmed Charities Services had no plans to undertake a further investigation into the Christian Church Community Trust.

“Charities Services initiates investigations into registered charities when we become aware of breaches of the Charities Act 2005. More serious matters of a criminal nature would be investigated by the police, and we would be guided by the outcome of those investigations.

“Similarly, if the royal commission makes a determination that provides evidence of serious wrongdoing, then Charities Services would further examine those findings in terms of our mandate.”

Charities Services had looked into the activities of the Gloriavale trust and maintained a “close interest” in its activities for several years, Weight said.

There had been a “high level of cooperation” by the trustees with Charities Services, and the trust had implemented several changes to address issues identified under the Charities Act.

The 2016 investigation found trustees may have acted in a manner that constituted serious wrongdoing under the Charities Act, particularly when it came to the handling of physical and sexual assault allegations and members wanting to leave the community.

Charities Services decided it was in the public interest for the trust to remain on the Charities Register, adding there was a high level of cooperation and genuine interest from the trustees to act in the best interests of the trust and the Gloriavale community.

By Sam Sherwood
Published in Stuff
07 Sept 2020

Previous studies have pointed the need for more research, which explores how peer provision brings about change associated with recovery. This study aims to test Leamy’s framework, which consists of five recovery processes: connectedness, hope, identity, meaning and empowerment (also known as the CHIME framework) within the peer provision context.

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By Grace Zeng, Donna Chung
The Journal of Mental Health Training, Education and Practice
04 Sept 2020

The Victorian government has announced a review of laws preventing sexual assault survivors from speaking publicly about their experience, hours after a campaign to have them repealed was launched.

Changes to the state’s Judicial Proceedings Reports Act introduced in February made it an offence for sexual assault survivors to publish their stories under their real identities in cases where proceedings were pending or a conviction had been recorded, unless they obtained a court order.

Published in SBS

Survivor advocates say the laws, which carry fines and potential jail time if broken, effectively silence victims and prevent them from carrying out advocacy work.

Journalist and sexual assault survivor Nina Funnell launched the #LetUsSpeak campaign on Wednesday morning, calling for the laws to be amended to allow survivors to waive their right to anonymity if they choose to share their story publicly.

Similar laws in Tasmania and the Northern Territory were scrapped earlier this year following a separate #LetHerSpeak campaign, also spearheaded by Funnell.

“[Victims] of clergy abuse and other public survivor advocates are among those who have lost the right to speak and could now face contempt of court if they continue their campaigns or media work,” Funnell wrote on the campaign’s GoFundMe page.

“As a result of the new laws, these survivors and others are now being forced to return to court at their own expense and inconvenience, to obtain court orders to speak publicly about their cases. This can and is costing survivors thousands of dollars.”

Within hours of the #LetUsSpeak campaign’s launch, it had raised more than $20,000 to financially support three survivors as they seek court orders allowing them to go public with their story.

On Wednesday afternoon, Victorian Attorney-General Jill Hennessy said she had asked the Department of Justice and Community Safety to look at whether further changes to the laws were needed.

“I acknowledge the strength and resilience of victims who come forward and tell their stories – it is an incredibly brave and difficult thing to do,” she said on Twitter.

Ms Hennessy said the changes in February were brought in because survivors previously didn’t have a clear way to navigate court bans designed to protect their identities.

“I remain concerned about the barriers, both cultural and legal, that continue to exist for victims of sexual assault,” she said.

By Maani Truu
Published in SBS
28 August 2020

Louise Nicholas taught Kiwis how to speak about sexual violence. Now, she believes the Government wants to silence her. Jehan Casinader reports.

Published in Stuff

It takes a lot to make Louise Nicholas cry.

She has been called a “slut”, a “whore” and a “media-loving liar”. Her sex life has been splashed across the papers. She has been shouted at by gang members, sneered at by lawyers and spat at by strangers. Usually, the vitriol brushes past her skin, but it does not stick.

As a rape survivor, Nicholas has led a decade-long crusade to educate Kiwis about sexual violence. It’s tough work, and she is used to taking some hard knocks.

But everyone has a breaking point. Hers came during a Zoom meeting with Ministry of Social Development officials. They revealed that her job – as the national advocate for survivors of sexual violence – would be scrapped.

“I realised that they didn’t want me around anymore,” Nicholas recalls. “I burst into tears and just could not speak. My wellbeing started to go downhill. I thought, ‘How dare they?’”

Nicholas has helped hundreds of survivors to navigate the perilous labyrinth known as the justice system. For 12 years, her work has been supported – and funded – by the government. She was shocked to discover that she is no longer needed.

“Sitting in that Zoom meeting, I felt like I had stepped back in time. Because, many years ago, my voice was taken away from me. And now, they’re going to do it again.”

On a summer morning in 1993, a timid woman stepped into the witness box at the Rotorua District Court. There, Louise Nicholas made a bombshell allegation: that, as a 13-year-old, she was repeatedly raped by a police officer.

This secret had gnawed away at Nicholas for years. At age 26, after getting married and starting a family, she decided to seek justice.

The courtroom procedure was harsh and unforgiving. Nicholas told her story from start to finish, before being “hounded” by the defence counsel. She says the lawyer claimed that she had “enjoyed” being raped.

“I absolutely felt like I was the one on trial. It was brutal. It was embarrassing. It was an emotional rollercoaster – and my family suffered because of it. I didn’t like seeing my mum cry. I didn’t like seeing the anger on my husband’s face. I was trying to support them, at the expense of my own wellbeing.”

The trial was aborted, but it was only the beginning of Nicholas’ quest for justice. Between 1993 and 2006, six separate trials focused on her historical rape allegations against multiple cops. Nicholas said she was pack-raped by three officers who had violated her with a police baton. All were acquitted, but two were jailed for raping another woman.

And in 2007, there was a disturbing postscript to Nicholas’ story. Rotorua’s former CIB boss John Dewar – the man she had entrusted with her original complaints in 1993 – was jailed for trying to obstruct the course of justice in her case.

Nicholas felt vindicated. She had been the victim of an attempted cover-up, and finally, the public knew it. Her case sparked a Commission of Inquiry into police culture, and led to changes across the public sector.

This shy mum-of-four had opened up a national conversation about a taboo issue: sexual violence.

“I was inundated with calls from complete strangers asking for my help. ‘Is it OK to go to the police? How do I do that? What’s the process like?’ Some people told me they wouldn’t go to court, because they saw all the horrible stuff that I went through. I thought, ‘Well, that’s wrong. If people don’t come forward, this cycle of sexual violence will continue.’ I wanted to make the process better.”

In 2008, Nicholas began working as an advocate for survivors – someone who could decipher legal jargon, walk them through the court process and ensure their safety.

Nicholas is based in Rotorua, but she has helped survivors – and their families – in every part of the country.

At the time of our interview, she is supporting a woman who gave evidence against a Mongrel Mob member. Nicholas spoke to police and asked if the woman could give her evidence by video link. In court, she made a safety plan so that the woman will not have to walk through a group of gang members to reach the bathroom.

“During the trial, my job is to keep the survivor calm. If they’re having a freak-out, I encourage them. I remind them that it’s actually okay to say to the judge, ‘I don’t understand what is being asked of me’.

“I say to my survivors, ‘Yes, you may be attacked in that courtroom, but you know your truth. Regardless of the outcome, you’re going to walk out of there knowing you’ve done everything you needed, to keep moving forward with your life.’”

Nicholas is rarely triggered by her own sexual trauma. But her toughest cases involve children – like a six-year-old girl who was regularly raped by her uncle.

“After she gave evidence, I took her down to Whitcoulls. I said, ‘You did such an amazing thing when you talked to the boss’. That’s what she called the judge. I wanted to buy her a present. She picked a colouring-in book and some crayons and pencils. Then she told me that she needed a stapler, and Sellotape, and a rubber…” Nicholas laughs.

“I often wonder how that girl is doing. After a case like that, I come home and say to my husband, Ross, ‘How can the human race be so f…ing cruel to our kids?’”

When Nicholas began this work, there was no template – no job description – for a “survivor advocate”. She created her own model, and now works alongside another advocate, Sheryl Martin. Sometimes, they must get their hands dirty.

“I was walking down the street with a 15-year-old, and she got bottled by the offender’s daughter,” says Nicholas. “I just clicked into bulldog mode, and I stepped in between them. I thought, ‘Girl, if you’re going to swing at me, I’m going to swing back’. I will do whatever I need to do to keep my survivors safe.”

While survivors trust Nicholas, she is also respected by many judges, lawyers, police and social workers. They ring her for advice, and count on her to look after witnesses in criminal trials. On one occasion, a 17-year-old witness decided to make a run for it. Nicholas was furious.

“I told her to get back in that courtroom. She said, ‘I’m not going back in there. You can tell that judge to go and get f…ed’. I said, ‘No, you go and tell that judge to get f…ed. It’s not up to me, mate!’”

Nicholas’ unconventional approach may raise eyebrows, but she says she gets results by connecting with people on their level. That means she “can’t always be Miss Precious”. In this case, she convinced “the witness from hell” to return to court.

“I said, ‘Look. I appreciate that you don’t want to do this, but we are almost finished. Cut that swearing out, because the judge is doing everything in her power to keep you safe. Stop disrespecting her. She has your back.’ The girl calmed down, and started answering the questions properly.

“Afterwards, she came up to me and said, ‘You know, miss, I don’t know whether to hug you or hit you’. Then she gave me a big hug, and said ‘Thank you’. We get that quite often. You learn how to read people – to understand their anxiety, and to get them through it.”

At times, Nicholas has been criticised by survivors who felt she was too close to police. But she says her role is independent, working “alongside, rather than for” the authorities.

In the early days, Nicholas would answer calls from survivors in the middle of the night, until her family told her that she was putting her work ahead of them. Now, she doesn’t pick up the phone after hours, but will always listen to the voicemail, just in case it’s a crisis situation.

“I will never turn my phone off, because there was never anybody there for me in my darkest times, other than my family. If I can listen to someone and give them a bit of reassurance, I know I can make a difference.”

For 12 years, Nicholas has been the National Sexual Violence Survivor Advocate, a role funded by various state agencies, including the Ministry of Justice, ACC and the Ministry of Social Development (MSD).

But she has always dreamt of having regional advocates across the country. When the coalition Government was elected in 2017, promising extra funding for sexual violence services, she believed her idea may finally come to life.

“I remember sitting in a hui, and I was like the Duracell bunny. I was bouncing around. I said to all these officials, ‘You guys have finally got it! Thank you. This is going to be amazing. Oh my God, I’m so excited.’”

Over many months, Nicholas shared information about her model. She told officials exactly what works, and what doesn’t.

Then in April, she was in a Zoom meeting with MSD staff who delivered a devastating piece of news. At the end of the 2020 financial year, Nicholas’ role will end.

“It was a kick in the guts. MSD had used me to put together the service that I had dreamt of – that I had spent years advocating for. And once they got what they wanted out of me, they said, ‘Thanks very much’.

“I’ve been used and abused. I never thought I would be in that position again in my life, but that’s what MSD has done. Usually, when I get kicked, I come up fighting. But this time, I feel absolutely broken.”

Skylight Trust manages her current contract. Chief executive Heather Henare was in the meeting with MSD, and watched Nicholas’ face go pale.

“I thought: ‘How dare they do this to a woman who has championed so much change in this country?’ This Government is telling us to be kind and compassionate. Louise did everything that was asked of her. Has it cost her job? Yes. Has she been treated with respect? No.”

In 2015, Nicholas was made an Officer of the New Zealand Order of Merit. In 2018, the Ministry of Justice commissioned an independent evaluation of her work. The 108-page report found that all survivors who were interviewed and most stakeholders were “overwhelmingly positive”.

But Henare suspects that some officials see Nicholas as more of a liability than an asset, because she is so outspoken.

When a story about sexual violence breaks, Nicholas is often the first person that journalists call. Recently, she has commented on the culture within Fire and Emergency, the Korean diplomat accused of sexual assault, and the sentencing of the man who killed British tourist Grace Millane.

Nicholas is known for challenging policies and procedures. If she disagrees with a verdict or a sentence, she often suggests that the judge is “living on planet dumb-arse”.

“There are people who would very much like her to stop speaking to the media and stop challenging the system,” says Henare. “At times, she has embarrassed various ministries and officials. But Louise is an independent advocate. It’s her right to say whatever she needs to say.”

And when the proverbial hits the fan, Nicholas is called in to clean up the mess. After Chiefs players were accused of harassing a stripper, New Zealand Rugby asked her to review its education programme. When law firm Russell McVeagh faced sexual misconduct complaints, Nicholas told staff how to make their workplace safer.

When a group of survivors wanted to challenge the Air Force’s handling of sexual assault complaints, they contacted Nicholas, who brokered a meeting and helped both parties to understand each other.

“We would not have got very far without Louise,” says survivor Tracey Thompson. “Regardless of whether people think she’s a bull at a gate, Louise is always thinking carefully about how she will approach an issue. I think that really scares people, because she has a mind of her own, and they can’t suppress it.

“I can’t believe MSD would cut her off like this. They’re pretty much saying to her, ‘You can’t be Louise Nicholas’.”

In response to questions for this story, MSD confirmed it will not renew Nicholas’ contract.

The Ministry says it is spending $6.3m on the Court Support Service; a nationwide system of “qualified and accredited providers” who will help survivors navigate the justice system. The service, which has been trialled in Auckland, will be rolled out over four years.

MSD has told Nicholas that she can apply for a regional role in the Bay of Plenty. But she won’t be funded to do the national, big-picture advocacy work she is known for.

Nicholas will not be funded to help children or young people, because the Court Support Service will only work with over-18s. Oranga Tamariki will be responsible for children who have experienced sexual harm. However, the agency does not have a dedicated court support service for child survivors.

“That’s horrifying,” Nicholas says, “because I have never seen Oranga Tamariki looking after a child survivor in court. Given that our children are the most vulnerable to sexual crime, why are they not getting the same dedicated support that adult survivors get?”

Nicholas plans to set up her own trust and seek philanthropic funding, to ensure she can continue her current work without relying on government money.

“I’d still love for MSD to turn around and say, ‘You know what? You’re doing an amazing job – carry on’. But I don’t know if that will happen.”

In any case, she can count on the support of her family. Their bond has grown even stronger this year, after her eldest daughter, Jess, was convicted of supplying methamphetamine. For the first time, Nicholas found herself supporting an offender – rather than a victim – in court.

“I told Jess, ‘You shouldn’t have done that s…, and there are consequences for your actions. So you’ve gotta put your big girl undies on. Be upfront and honest, and learn from it.’ That’s what she has done.”

As a recovering addict, Jess Nicholas is now clean, and is serving seven months’ home detention at the family home in Rotorua. She popped into the room during our interview to tell her mum that she had passed her drug test.

It’s a reminder that any Kiwi family can find itself having contact with the justice system. And although Louise Nicholas feels betrayed by the Government, she wants survivors of sexual violence to have faith in the criminal process.

“In my life, I have lost some battles, but I have won the war. Changes have been made in the justice system so that another young girl doesn’t have to go through what I went through. If anything happened to me today, would I be willing to go to court? Absolutely.”

WHERE VICTIMS OF SEXUAL VIOLENCE CAN GET HELP

• Rape Crisis – 0800 88 33 00 (Will direct you to a nearby centre), follow link for information on local helplines
• Victim Support – 0800 842 846 (24hr service)
• The Harbour, online support and information for those affected by harmful sexual behaviour
• Women’s Refuge (For women and children) – crisis line available on 0800 733 843
• Safe to talk – 0800 044 334, text 4334 or web chat
• Male Survivors Aotearoa (For men) – follow link for regional helplines

If you or someone else is in immediate danger call 111.

By Jehan Casinader
Published in Stuff
23 August 2020