FORUM TOPIC: the value of the contribution to policy and practice development of those who have been imprisoned.
It is widely recognised that people who go through a system are well-placed to comment on areas of potential improvement, and this is true of many who have experienced incarceration. Fa'afete Taito was one of three ex-prisoners to address the forum about experiences that were of particular importance in enabling him to gain some of the qualities of hope, trust and self-respect, and to see the possibility of achieving a different future.
Response to 'The Restoration of Mana'
By Dr Rawiri Waretini-Karena
Four years as a Ward of the State, 12 years as a gang member, nearly 20 years as a career criminal serving almost 15 years of prison over four different decades. I have spent 35 years of my life negotiating a pathway through a society that is underpinned by crime, violence and deviant behavior. Most of my lags have been for violence and my longest sentence was for drugs.
I do not think it would be presumptuous of me to correctly assume that the vast majority of people in this room today would virtually have no inkling of what that world would be like, so I am not going to trouble you with the day-to-day escapades of shootings, stabbings, kidnappings, drug dealings etc. that go on in that world but one should understand that going to prison is a hazard of that particular environment.
From the outset let me say that I do not rely upon research or statistics to support any of my claims because my contribution to this forum and my response to Dr Rawiri Waretini–Karena’s paper posits purely on ‘This Is What I Know’. I will attempt to build a platform that will provide a panoramic view of the criminal world and while it may not be picture perfect - and at times incomprehensible - it may give people (here today) a sense of why it is so difficult for those (already) there to get out.
Like Rawiri, the beatings from my dad were very severe and constant, to the extent that by the time I was 12, I had had enough and began running away from home. After doing this on a regular basis the courts had decided to send me to Owairaka Boys’ Home as a Ward of the State. Moving from Welfare homes to foster homes and unable to find a school that would take me, I soon appeared in front of the Children’s Board and was exempted from attending school, and that was the end of my formal education.
During this time I spent most of my times on the streets of Auckland playing cat and mouse with Youth Aid Officers, Social Workers, the J Team (Juvenile squad of the Police force) and of course the Police. Born in Grey Lynn / Ponsonby these streets were familiar and easy for me to navigate. By the time I was 16 my sights was firmly set on becoming a member of a local gang and by 17, I had my patch. Also at this stage I had done a couple of lags – Borstal training in Waikeria and a stint in Mt Eden.
A massive brawl in the middle of Queen Street, between our gang and the white power Skinheads, in 1981 saw me sentenced to three years for GBH[1], which in those days was quite a heavy sentence for that offence. During sentencing Justice Vautier said that, “I along with members of my gang turned Queen St into a battlefield and that a strong message from the Courts needed to be sent to gang members that this kind of behavior will not be tolerated.”
I just want to diverge here for a minute to say that Justice Vautier was South African and I was the last person he sentenced before he retired. I couldn’t help but feel that his heavy-handed sentence had something to do with my involvement with protests against the 1981 Springbok tour. At the time, I was on trial for the Springbok tour and was consequently jailed for that as well.
Anyway, being in a gang during this era was tough. As described earlier, massive brawls with other gangs in pubs, car parks, streets were the norm as gangs sought to establish turfs (territories).
In the 70s and 80s, being in a gang was about power, the ability to control and defend your turf, mainly through acts of senseless violence that deterred other gangs from entering your turf (especially with their colours on). Central Auckland became our concrete jungle as we sought to exert our domination over other gangs who had aspirations of turning this area into theirs. This is done in a number of ways which I won’t trouble you with today, but of significance is that power, control and status become part of one’s psyche and way of life in this society.
In a nutshell, gang life is first and foremost about being staunch and unreservedly loyal to your colours. A member is expected to die before losing their patch to another gang. Patched members are expected to behave in a manner that will not bring their gang colours into disrepute. When you grow up in this world you learn to act accordingly or face the penalties imposed by the gang’s hierarchy. There are certain rules and conduct one must abide by because the threat of expulsion (and what goes along with that) or the more serious consequence of ‘going for a ride’[2] is very real. This type of coercive power is needed to ensure that members abide by the gangs’ code.
In my experience, gang membership in Auckland is a sea of mainly male, brown faces mostly from low socio–economic families within marginalized areas. Māori and Pacific Islanders in the Auckland metropolitan area dominate gang memberships, even now. While this may not surprise many of you here today it is also a reflection of what the prison population looks like especially in mainstream.
Before moving onto the subject of prison it is important to touch briefly on being a career criminal. In my eyes, and obviously through experience, career criminals are motivated by the lure of… MONEY and WEALTH. As a criminal this is achieved through doing ‘earns’. During my lag at the ‘Rock’ in 1982 a highly respected crim gave me an insight to being a smart criminal. He said, “if you wake up in the morning and there’s no earn, you create one because that’s what crims do.” There is a variety of ways of making an earn which I won’t bother explaining; suffice to say ‘earns’ is about criminal ways of making money, almost like an entrepreneur. It is not uncommon that these two elements (gangs and crims) may collude on different levels to negotiate terms of an earn. Once a crim cracks it the taste of success is infectious and your status increases along with power.
These worlds are dominated by alpha males looking to hold sway over others. It is absolutely macho, promotes sexism, and patriarchy rules. While I accept that the criminal fraternity includes all sorts of people from all walks of life it is these two sectors that exert the most influence on this environment, including prison.
In my opinion, prison environment complements the society I have just described, the difference being that the jungle is significantly smaller and literally closed in by concrete walls (or barbed wire, depending on where you are), but the environment is the same.
All my lags have been served in mainstream and while Māori and Pākehā inmates dominated my early lags, sadly the increase of P.I. offenders meant my lags in 1995 and 2002 were largely shared with (again) Māori and P.I.’s - unfortunately many of them were my own people, mainly young Samoans. It did make me wonder where all the ‘baldhead’ (or white folk) inmates had gone but the increase of ‘seg units’ (segregation units) answered that question and to be honest, I don’t blame them.
Doing time in mainstream can be very dangerous for those who are unfamiliar and not connected. It is not the place for the faint-hearted. One requires a certain set of skills to survive mainstream jail. Even if you are efficient in the art of violence, that will account for nothing when up against the gangs. Invariably, most mainstream units have gangs and competing for control is a daily grind. Generally those with numbers win that battle, hence why those not connected become fodder to the gangs who are always on the hunt for new prospects...
Individuals like myself, who have a bit of form, are unaffected by all this because we know the ‘rules’ of the jungle and understand our parameters. While we may hold a certain amount of respect it counts for nothing if we cross boundaries uninvited. In this sense each individual inmate will experience doing time differently, and the weak will succumb to the pressure brought to bear by the gangs and criminals in the prison environment.
(A media release this week by a prison director in Christchurch touches briefly on this point. He said, “There is a small percentage of prisoners who are behind contraband smuggling. To get contraband through the perimeter these prisoners engage in stand-overs, threats and violence toward others. Often family and friends are roped in to breaking the law and don't realise the seriousness or consequences of their actions.")
Prison rehabilitation programs have evolved dramatically over the four different decades I spent there. What has been a common thread is vocational training for the inmate, so upon release he has acquired the necessary work skills to secure meaningful employment. In prison during my last two lags, I got my welding ticket, fork lift license, HT and almost completed my crane driver ticket, and did nothing with them when released. Why?
Because I was a career criminal and we don’t belong in the straight world. No amount of rehab programs, vocation or otherwise, was going to change that. I was a man of respect in a world that was familiar to me and easy to negotiate. Why would I want to leave that?
Most inmates know or realize that doing these rehab programs to address your offending has a huge impact on your chances of parole. To be brutally honest, that is the reason why I did them, and many of my mates were like that as well.
I totally accept that not all inmates have that attitude and Rawiri’s story shows that inmates do have a moment of reflection and change inevitably follows. However, and I am sure Rawiri and Teina[3] would agree, doing a life lag has a different approach to doing a finite sentence.
One of the criticism I have about prison rehab programs is that if you complete, let’s say an AVP[4] program, on completion where does the inmate go? Straight back to a prison environment where the threat of violence is imminent.
Similarly, upon release from prison, most Māori and P.I. inmates will return to marginalized areas that largely resemble the prison environment: gang members, drugs, deviant behaviors, constant police presence and the like. What real hope is there for rehabilitation and integration? Because when I think of all those white boys that commit white collar crimes, what is their environment like that they get released to, because I have rarely seen any of them come back!! We certainly couldn’t disregard environment as a factor.
There are a few factors that led to my transformation: my loving partner of 24 years, my five sons, and the signs I was losing control of my methamphetamine use. I am not going to get into the nuts and bolts of what this means but just want to say that for a recidivist like I was, the only hope of change must come from within. It was incredibly hard for me to change; that life was all I knew and without the support of Viv, my partner, it may have not been possible. Sadly all my sons (except my oldest) have now entered into the CJS[5] and that burden weighs extremely heavy on my shoulders. Undoubtedly my total disdain for the law and its enforcers would have contributed to their attitude towards them as well. Be that as it may, I am now trying show them a better way by being a solid role model; it is a work in progress.
The irony of jail is that the biggest support for our men in jail are their partners and family and yet we do not have programs that assist men to live in relationships with women, given that many of them come from single parent and broken homes. If we think about how that world subordinates women, then it might be a good idea to run programs that will teach male inmates how to respect women and the choices they make.
In conclusion I want to add that I have shared my experiences with you today in the knowledge that it had to be compressed within a time limit. This approach tends to reinforce negative stereotypes. Studying sociology has help me to recognize this and also that at times things are complicated, and that social structures shape the way we live in this world and the way that world responds to us.
I hope my korero today can contribute positively to the conversation around how we can improve better outcomes for our prisoners because as we all know, sooner or later, they will be released back to our communities.
[1] Grievous bodily harm.
[2] ‘Going for a ride' means to be killed, the penalty for being a Police informer.
[3] Teina Pora, who served 22 years of a life sentence before being exonerated by the Privy Council. I have been helping him with his integration.
[4] Anti-violence programme.
[5] Criminal justice system.
It is widely recognised that people who go through a system are well-placed to comment on areas of potential improvement, and this is true of many who have experienced incarceration. Fa'afete Taito was one of three ex-prisoners to address the forum about experiences that were of particular importance in enabling him to gain some of the qualities of hope, trust and self-respect, and to see the possibility of achieving a different future.
Response to 'The Restoration of Mana'
By Dr Rawiri Waretini-Karena
Four years as a Ward of the State, 12 years as a gang member, nearly 20 years as a career criminal serving almost 15 years of prison over four different decades. I have spent 35 years of my life negotiating a pathway through a society that is underpinned by crime, violence and deviant behavior. Most of my lags have been for violence and my longest sentence was for drugs.
I do not think it would be presumptuous of me to correctly assume that the vast majority of people in this room today would virtually have no inkling of what that world would be like, so I am not going to trouble you with the day-to-day escapades of shootings, stabbings, kidnappings, drug dealings etc. that go on in that world but one should understand that going to prison is a hazard of that particular environment.
From the outset let me say that I do not rely upon research or statistics to support any of my claims because my contribution to this forum and my response to Dr Rawiri Waretini–Karena’s paper posits purely on ‘This Is What I Know’. I will attempt to build a platform that will provide a panoramic view of the criminal world and while it may not be picture perfect - and at times incomprehensible - it may give people (here today) a sense of why it is so difficult for those (already) there to get out.
Like Rawiri, the beatings from my dad were very severe and constant, to the extent that by the time I was 12, I had had enough and began running away from home. After doing this on a regular basis the courts had decided to send me to Owairaka Boys’ Home as a Ward of the State. Moving from Welfare homes to foster homes and unable to find a school that would take me, I soon appeared in front of the Children’s Board and was exempted from attending school, and that was the end of my formal education.
During this time I spent most of my times on the streets of Auckland playing cat and mouse with Youth Aid Officers, Social Workers, the J Team (Juvenile squad of the Police force) and of course the Police. Born in Grey Lynn / Ponsonby these streets were familiar and easy for me to navigate. By the time I was 16 my sights was firmly set on becoming a member of a local gang and by 17, I had my patch. Also at this stage I had done a couple of lags – Borstal training in Waikeria and a stint in Mt Eden.
A massive brawl in the middle of Queen Street, between our gang and the white power Skinheads, in 1981 saw me sentenced to three years for GBH[1], which in those days was quite a heavy sentence for that offence. During sentencing Justice Vautier said that, “I along with members of my gang turned Queen St into a battlefield and that a strong message from the Courts needed to be sent to gang members that this kind of behavior will not be tolerated.”
I just want to diverge here for a minute to say that Justice Vautier was South African and I was the last person he sentenced before he retired. I couldn’t help but feel that his heavy-handed sentence had something to do with my involvement with protests against the 1981 Springbok tour. At the time, I was on trial for the Springbok tour and was consequently jailed for that as well.
Anyway, being in a gang during this era was tough. As described earlier, massive brawls with other gangs in pubs, car parks, streets were the norm as gangs sought to establish turfs (territories).
In the 70s and 80s, being in a gang was about power, the ability to control and defend your turf, mainly through acts of senseless violence that deterred other gangs from entering your turf (especially with their colours on). Central Auckland became our concrete jungle as we sought to exert our domination over other gangs who had aspirations of turning this area into theirs. This is done in a number of ways which I won’t trouble you with today, but of significance is that power, control and status become part of one’s psyche and way of life in this society.
In a nutshell, gang life is first and foremost about being staunch and unreservedly loyal to your colours. A member is expected to die before losing their patch to another gang. Patched members are expected to behave in a manner that will not bring their gang colours into disrepute. When you grow up in this world you learn to act accordingly or face the penalties imposed by the gang’s hierarchy. There are certain rules and conduct one must abide by because the threat of expulsion (and what goes along with that) or the more serious consequence of ‘going for a ride’[2] is very real. This type of coercive power is needed to ensure that members abide by the gangs’ code.
In my experience, gang membership in Auckland is a sea of mainly male, brown faces mostly from low socio–economic families within marginalized areas. Māori and Pacific Islanders in the Auckland metropolitan area dominate gang memberships, even now. While this may not surprise many of you here today it is also a reflection of what the prison population looks like especially in mainstream.
Before moving onto the subject of prison it is important to touch briefly on being a career criminal. In my eyes, and obviously through experience, career criminals are motivated by the lure of… MONEY and WEALTH. As a criminal this is achieved through doing ‘earns’. During my lag at the ‘Rock’ in 1982 a highly respected crim gave me an insight to being a smart criminal. He said, “if you wake up in the morning and there’s no earn, you create one because that’s what crims do.” There is a variety of ways of making an earn which I won’t bother explaining; suffice to say ‘earns’ is about criminal ways of making money, almost like an entrepreneur. It is not uncommon that these two elements (gangs and crims) may collude on different levels to negotiate terms of an earn. Once a crim cracks it the taste of success is infectious and your status increases along with power.
These worlds are dominated by alpha males looking to hold sway over others. It is absolutely macho, promotes sexism, and patriarchy rules. While I accept that the criminal fraternity includes all sorts of people from all walks of life it is these two sectors that exert the most influence on this environment, including prison.
In my opinion, prison environment complements the society I have just described, the difference being that the jungle is significantly smaller and literally closed in by concrete walls (or barbed wire, depending on where you are), but the environment is the same.
All my lags have been served in mainstream and while Māori and Pākehā inmates dominated my early lags, sadly the increase of P.I. offenders meant my lags in 1995 and 2002 were largely shared with (again) Māori and P.I.’s - unfortunately many of them were my own people, mainly young Samoans. It did make me wonder where all the ‘baldhead’ (or white folk) inmates had gone but the increase of ‘seg units’ (segregation units) answered that question and to be honest, I don’t blame them.
Doing time in mainstream can be very dangerous for those who are unfamiliar and not connected. It is not the place for the faint-hearted. One requires a certain set of skills to survive mainstream jail. Even if you are efficient in the art of violence, that will account for nothing when up against the gangs. Invariably, most mainstream units have gangs and competing for control is a daily grind. Generally those with numbers win that battle, hence why those not connected become fodder to the gangs who are always on the hunt for new prospects...
Individuals like myself, who have a bit of form, are unaffected by all this because we know the ‘rules’ of the jungle and understand our parameters. While we may hold a certain amount of respect it counts for nothing if we cross boundaries uninvited. In this sense each individual inmate will experience doing time differently, and the weak will succumb to the pressure brought to bear by the gangs and criminals in the prison environment.
(A media release this week by a prison director in Christchurch touches briefly on this point. He said, “There is a small percentage of prisoners who are behind contraband smuggling. To get contraband through the perimeter these prisoners engage in stand-overs, threats and violence toward others. Often family and friends are roped in to breaking the law and don't realise the seriousness or consequences of their actions.")
Prison rehabilitation programs have evolved dramatically over the four different decades I spent there. What has been a common thread is vocational training for the inmate, so upon release he has acquired the necessary work skills to secure meaningful employment. In prison during my last two lags, I got my welding ticket, fork lift license, HT and almost completed my crane driver ticket, and did nothing with them when released. Why?
Because I was a career criminal and we don’t belong in the straight world. No amount of rehab programs, vocation or otherwise, was going to change that. I was a man of respect in a world that was familiar to me and easy to negotiate. Why would I want to leave that?
Most inmates know or realize that doing these rehab programs to address your offending has a huge impact on your chances of parole. To be brutally honest, that is the reason why I did them, and many of my mates were like that as well.
I totally accept that not all inmates have that attitude and Rawiri’s story shows that inmates do have a moment of reflection and change inevitably follows. However, and I am sure Rawiri and Teina[3] would agree, doing a life lag has a different approach to doing a finite sentence.
One of the criticism I have about prison rehab programs is that if you complete, let’s say an AVP[4] program, on completion where does the inmate go? Straight back to a prison environment where the threat of violence is imminent.
Similarly, upon release from prison, most Māori and P.I. inmates will return to marginalized areas that largely resemble the prison environment: gang members, drugs, deviant behaviors, constant police presence and the like. What real hope is there for rehabilitation and integration? Because when I think of all those white boys that commit white collar crimes, what is their environment like that they get released to, because I have rarely seen any of them come back!! We certainly couldn’t disregard environment as a factor.
There are a few factors that led to my transformation: my loving partner of 24 years, my five sons, and the signs I was losing control of my methamphetamine use. I am not going to get into the nuts and bolts of what this means but just want to say that for a recidivist like I was, the only hope of change must come from within. It was incredibly hard for me to change; that life was all I knew and without the support of Viv, my partner, it may have not been possible. Sadly all my sons (except my oldest) have now entered into the CJS[5] and that burden weighs extremely heavy on my shoulders. Undoubtedly my total disdain for the law and its enforcers would have contributed to their attitude towards them as well. Be that as it may, I am now trying show them a better way by being a solid role model; it is a work in progress.
The irony of jail is that the biggest support for our men in jail are their partners and family and yet we do not have programs that assist men to live in relationships with women, given that many of them come from single parent and broken homes. If we think about how that world subordinates women, then it might be a good idea to run programs that will teach male inmates how to respect women and the choices they make.
In conclusion I want to add that I have shared my experiences with you today in the knowledge that it had to be compressed within a time limit. This approach tends to reinforce negative stereotypes. Studying sociology has help me to recognize this and also that at times things are complicated, and that social structures shape the way we live in this world and the way that world responds to us.
I hope my korero today can contribute positively to the conversation around how we can improve better outcomes for our prisoners because as we all know, sooner or later, they will be released back to our communities.
[1] Grievous bodily harm.
[2] ‘Going for a ride' means to be killed, the penalty for being a Police informer.
[3] Teina Pora, who served 22 years of a life sentence before being exonerated by the Privy Council. I have been helping him with his integration.
[4] Anti-violence programme.
[5] Criminal justice system.