Prime Minister Christopher Luxon delivers a national apology to abuse survivors in Parliament, viewed at a special event in Christchurch. Photo: Nathan Mckinnon/RNZ
Analysis - "Today we feel you here with us," the Prime Minister said yesterday, in acknowledgement of the thousands of victims of abuse who died waiting for recognition and died waiting for an apology.
He said it to a packed parliamentary gallery.
About 250 people sat in silence, their silence reverberating the massive silence of those who were not present.
It bears repeating - at least 200,000 children, young people and vulnerable persons were abused by the state and carers trusted by the state with their lives.
Eight hundred parliaments could be filled with survivors and victims of the state's abuse, and in reality it could be far more. We will never truly know.
And abuse is such a small word.
These vulnerable people were beaten, raped, tormented, neglected, isolated, violated and tortured. And to make it worse, when they revealed what was happening, they were told they were lying.
Yesterday was their day and they made it known.
As state sector leader after leader took to the stage of parliament's banquet hall to offer apologies to survivors they were jeered, they were booed and they were heckled.
"Apology without change is abuse," one man called out.
The obvious vulnerability could be seen in the expression on the state leaders' faces. I wonder if it dawned on them that in this moment of exposure, they could only begin to imagine what it must have been like for survivors in their moments of desperate vulnerability.
Not all survivors raised their voice. Some sat in silence. Some turned away. Some walked out. And, remarkably, despite what these institutions had put them through, some even applauded.
In the debating chamber, as Christopher Luxon and Chris Hipkins made their apologies, the survivors sat in silence, breathing in the words of the political leaders.
As the prime minister concluded his apology with a karakia from Waihoroi Shortland - "Your truth we are challenged to uphold/Your courage we are bound to honour/And your right to be heard, we receive with privilege" - you could hear a pin drop.
It was impossible to read what was running through the minds of survivors, but I was fortunate enough to share in some of their their reflections afterward.
"I don't know how authentic that is," one told me.
"Empty and hollow words," was how another characterised it.
"I believe they're sincere - I'm still thinking I might get let down, but I'm hoping I'm wrong," one guarded but optimistic survivor said.
The problem is this group has heard it all before.
Talk is cheap and after decades - in some cases generations - of trauma and waiting, now words are not enough. It is time for action.
As the prime minister acknowledged, many have died waiting for real change, real recognition, and real compensation.
But the longer the government takes, the more people who will die waiting.
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