NZ social workers speak about the challenges of their jobs

After last year’s budget cuts to social services, including a NZ$14 million cut to early home visits, social services providers in New Zealand raised concerns about what the move would mean for children and families needing support.

But in-depth interviews with nine social and family workers completed in 2023 reveal a sector that has struggled under successive Labour and National governments to protect children facing neglect and violence in the home.

In the 12 months to March 2023, New Zealand’s protection services agency, Oranga Tamariki, received notifications of concern for 51,600 individual children and young people, yet only 780 children entered out-of-home care.

The vast majority of these children remained within their families. This means that children’s wellbeing relied on their families receiving adequate support to meet their needs.

While there is some evidence parenting interventions can reduce harm, there is little understanding about what actually works.

Our research looks at the experiences of social and family workers themselves to understand the role they play in protecting children and young people. We asked them what they do, what they viewed as essential for effectiveness and what works with whānau Māori. Another study with parents, asking similar questions, is currently underway.

Harm in the home

Poverty, lack of access to health and education services and the harms of colonisation are risk factors for child maltreatment.

Parents can struggle with mental health problems, disabilities and addiction. Trauma-related difficulties can repeat through generations.

When Oranga Tamariki receives a notification about a child, they often refer parents to a non-governmental agency such as Family Start for help.

Social or family workers usually provide this at home. It can include education, coaching, modelling and even live skills practice directly with children and their parents.

What social workers told us

Our research participants said they valued being able to work with these families in their home, with one saying,

they’ve welcomed us into their home and that’s actually a privilege to be invited into someone’s home, into their physical home and into their parenting world.

All referenced Te Whare Tapa Whā (the house of four walls), a Māori health model, to help frame a shared understanding of families’ needs and wellbeing.

Te Whare Tapa Whā views an individual’s wellbeing as being made up of four aspects, all of which need to be in balance. This includes whānau (family – both kin and non-kin), hinengaro (psychological wellbeing, including cognitive and emotional health), tinana (physical health and resources) and wairua (spirituality, connection with ancestors).

Our research participants believed being effective required strong relationships, being non-judgemental, reciprocity, and directness regarding child protection concerns.

As one explained,

It comes down to whanaungatanga [relationships], and so that relationship is built well at the beginning and as expectations are built, so that this is a safe place where we’re really going to work together on some really hard stuff.

Having a meaningful relationship with parents, where change could occur, included being direct about parenting behaviours that were harmful to children.

When working with whānau Māori, trusting, reciprocal relationships and ensuring self-determination and autonomy were essential.

Pākehā social workers described trying to be responsive to the needs of Māori rather than determining for them what was best.

As one of our research participants explained,

[Culturally-responsive intervention] looks different for each [family]. I think the biggest thing I’ve learned is that it’s not up to me to tell them, it’s actually up to them to lead it.

Trust was seen as essential, but it takes time and investment to build trust for Māori parents working with non-Māori practitioners and agencies.

Worryingly, practitioners described knowing of ongoing harm to children, despite their efforts. They were often not able to work on parenting skills, because of bigger problems such as housing or family violence, and parents could not engage.

Another research participant said,

There’s also neglect of the children, and attachment with the kids, and it’s really hard to work on that, because we’re just kind of managing the family harm situation and the mental health.

Participants expressed discomfort in knowing about the harm to children yet feeling helpless to get Oranga Tamariki to respond in more active ways as the mandated agency.

As one social worker from a non-governmental agency providing contracted services for Oranga Tamariki said,

It was just awful, awful, awful to see the way these children were being treated in this home. So fighting with [Oranga Tamariki] all the time, trying to get them around, get support, nothing, nothing, nothing.

Despite the honesty and collaboration, the social workers were also well aware of parents seeing them as having a monitoring role for Oranga Tamariki – and inadvertently becoming part of the government’s surveillance.

For those working with Māori families, this discomfort in complicity is deepened by the history of colonisation and inequity in New Zealand.

Protecting children who fall through the cracks

The shared model of responsibility across government and non-government organisations seems like a good approach. But the reality is that children can and do fall through the gaps.

Oranga Tamariki, for example, has a high threshold for harm before they will intervene.

The ability of social services to keep children safe within their homes is increasingly limited due to a lack of resourcing.

It is thus even more important that communities look out for and care for children who are at risk of harm and to better understand what works in addressing family violence, and what doesn’t.