The recent revelations of abuse in Australian childcare settings and the Victorian Government’s acknowledgement of historical child sexual abuse in government schools force us to confront a painful reality: places created to educate and care for children are not automatically safe simply because we trust them.

This was brought home to me on 17 July this year. While having lunch with my family. I received a notification that unsettled me deeply and transformed an ordinary family moment into a reflection on the safety and dignity of children. It was a message about historical child sexual abuse in Victorian government schools and the upcoming Parliamentary apology to victim-survivors. Although the events described had occurred before the year 2000, the message carried a powerful reminder: child safety is not merely a matter of the past. It is a responsibility that belongs to all of us in the present.

These cases share a disturbing lesson. Children often exist within environments where adults hold enormous authority over them, while children themselves have limited power, limited language, and limited confidence to challenge what feels wrong.

The Victorian Department of Education's review found that former students had reported historical child sexual abuse linked to 403 Victorian government schools between 1950 and 1999, based on schools named in National Redress Scheme applications and civil claims. The upcoming Parliamentary apology represents an important act of recognition and accountability. It acknowledges the suffering of victim-survivors whose voices were ignored, dismissed or unheard for too long. But an apology, while necessary, cannot be the final word.

The deeper question we must ask is this: What kind of education system helps children recognise harm, question the misuse of power, and find the courage to speak when something is wrong?

The limits of safeguarding

For many years, child protection has understandably focused on institutional safeguards: background checks, reporting obligations, compliance requirements and professional standards. These measures are essential. They represent the responsibility of adults and institutions to create environments where children are safe. However, safeguarding cannot depend only on systems designed by adults after harm has occurred. A truly child-safe culture must also recognise children as people with voices, dignity and moral agency.

This does not mean placing responsibility for preventing abuse on children. Children should never carry the burden of protecting themselves from adults who misuse power. The responsibility belongs to parents, educators, institutions and governments. But children deserve something more: the knowledge and confidence to recognise when something is wrong, the language to describe unsafe experiences, and the courage to seek help for themselves and others.

This is where ethics becomes central to education.

Education beyond obedience

Schools have always taught more than academic content. They teach children how to relate to authority, how to treat others, and how to understand their responsibilities within a community, which means every classroom contains an implicit moral curriculum.

Children learn not only from what teachers teach, but from what schools reward, tolerate and ignore. They learn whether questioning is encouraged or discouraged. They learn whether powerful people are always trusted or whether authority comes with responsibility.

The philosopher Michel Foucault argued in Discipline and Punish that institutions shape human behaviour through relationships of power. Schools are among the first major institutions children encounter outside their families. They are places where young people learn how power operates. This does not mean children should distrust teachers or reject legitimate authority. Teachers play an extraordinary role in children’s lives and deserve respect. But ethical education teaches an essential distinction: respecting authority does not mean surrendering moral judgement. A healthy society requires citizens who can respect institutions while also recognising when institutions or individuals fail.

The tragedy of institutional abuse extends beyond the actions of individual perpetrators. It is also about the environments that allowed silence and fear to replace courage and obedience to replace moral judgement, which allowed harm to continue.

The psychology of silence

One of the most difficult questions after cases of child abuse is often: why did children not speak earlier?

Children who experience abuse may feel shame, confusion, fear or self-blame. Many perpetrators deliberately exploit trust and authority, making children question their own feelings or believe they will not be believed. Psychological research helps us understand why individuals and communities sometimes fail to respond to wrongdoing. Albert Bandura’s work on moral disengagement demonstrates how people can distance themselves from ethical responsibility through denial, minimisation or the belief that responsibility belongs elsewhere. These processes do not only affect perpetrators. They can also influence institutions. Adults may ignore warning signs because acknowledging them would challenge their understanding of a trusted organisation. Colleagues may hesitate to speak because they fear consequences. Communities may protect reputations rather than confront uncomfortable truths. Children are especially vulnerable because they are still developing their ability to interpret complex social situations and exercise moral judgement.

This is why ethical education matters.

Ethics as a form of protection

Ethics education is sometimes misunderstood as abstract philosophy: theories, famous thinkers and difficult moral questions.

In reality, ethics begins with everyday human experiences.

A child’s ethical education can begin with simple but profound questions:

Is this respectful? Is this fair? Does someone have too much power over another person? What should I do if my friend tells me they are afraid? Why might someone stay silent? How can I help someone who is vulnerable?

These questions develop empathy, judgement and responsibility.

The work of philosophers such as Carol Gilligan and Nel Noddings has emphasised that morality is not only about rules and punishment. It is also about relationships, care and responsibility towards others. For children, this means understanding that safety is both a personal matter and shared responsibility. A child who learns that another person’s wellbeing matters is more likely to notice when something is wrong. A child who understands that adults can make mistakes is more likely to seek help. And a child who learns that courage sometimes means questioning authority is better prepared to navigate a complicated world.

From bystanders to upstanders

One of the most important lessons from institutional abuse inquiries around the world is the role of silence. In Australia, the Royal Commission into Institutional Responses to Child Sexual Abuse repeatedly found that cultures of silence, failures to listen to children and institutional self-protection enabled abuse to continue.

Abuse rarely continues only because of one person’s actions. It often continues because warning signs are ignored, concerns are dismissed, or people do not know how to respond. This is why modern child protection increasingly focuses on creating cultures when speaking up is normal. Children should learn that being a responsible member of a community means caring for others. The message should not simply be: “If something happens to you, tell someone.” It should also be: “If you see someone being harmed, you have a responsibility to seek help.”

This does not mean children should intervene in dangerous situations or place themselves at risk. Rather, it means children should understand that compassion and responsibility are part of belonging to a community. The movement from being passive observers to ethical participants is essential for child protection and democracy itself because democratic societies depend on citizens who can identify injustice, challenge harmful behaviour and defend the dignity of others.

The purpose of schooling

The Victorian Government apology is an opportunity to remember past failures and at the same time to rethink what schools should become.

A child-safe school cannot be defined only by policies stored on websites or procedures followed in administrative offices. Safety is a culture and should exist in everyday interactions: whether children feel heard, whether their concerns are taken seriously, and whether adults model ethical behaviour. This understanding also supports Australia's National Principles for Child Safe Organisations, which emphasise that child safety depends not only on policies but on organisational culture, children's participation and communities that encourage speaking up.

Teachers need strong professional preparation in child protection, ethics and boundaries. School leaders need to create environments where raising concerns is encouraged rather than feared. Parents and communities need opportunities to participate in conversations about safety.

But children themselves must also be included. A child who understands their own dignity is more likely to respect the dignity of others. A child who learns empathy is more likely to recognise suffering. And a child who develops moral courage is more likely to speak when silence becomes dangerous.

Education has always been about preparing young people for the world they will inherit. We teach children mathematics because numbers help them navigate life. We teach literacy because language gives them a voice. We teach science because understanding the world allows them to make informed decisions. Ethical judgement deserves the same importance, and we should always remember that the purpose of education cannot simply be producing successful individuals. It must also be cultivating compassionate human beings capable of living responsibly with others.

Beyond apology

The Victorian Government apology is an important moment of accountability, but its significance should extend beyond recognition of past failures. It should lead to deeper reform in how we understand education and child safety. Schools must not only respond to harm after it occurs; they must cultivate cultures where children understand dignity, respect, responsibility and the courage to speak. 

We cannot change what happened to those who were harmed decades ago. But we can decide what lessons we carry forward. A safer future for children will require strong institutions, accountable adults and effective safeguarding systems. It will also require something deeper: a generation of young people who understand respect, dignity, fairness and moral responsibility. Children are not merely the future of Australia, they are members of our community today, deserving of safety, belonging and a voice. The apology is an important moment of accountability, but it should lead to deeper reform in how we understand education and child safety.

Sirwan Barzanji, October 2026

Sirwan Barzanji is a Melbourne-based Kurdish writer, journalist and communications professional. His work explores migration, multiculturalism, identity, belonging and the role of democratic institutions in diverse societies.