Shifting conversations to action: Reimagining child protection in Australia

Every National Child Protection Week, Australians are asked to pause and reflect on what it truly means to keep children safe. Too often, the notion of ‘child protection’ is spoken about as if it begins and ends with statutory services. Keeping children safe is far broader than that, it is everyone’s business. It is shaped by the choices we make every day as families, communities, workplaces, services, and governments. It is about whether we value children not only as the promise of our future, but as full human beings whose safety, wellbeing, and voices matter right now in this very moment.

The theme of this year’s National Child Protection Week, ‘Every Conversation Matters: Shifting Conversation to Action’, reminds us that words alone are never enough. Conversations about protecting children become meaningful when they lead to safer homes, stronger communities, and better policies for children. Conversations only hold weight when they spark change, and are shifted from mere words to action. Conversations between parents and children about respect and trust; conversations in schools about kindness and belonging; conversations in workplaces about supporting families; conversations within governments about prevention and equity. All of these conversations matter. However, they matter most when they become the foundation for action.

Our own lives and positionalities reflect the many ways safety is understood across our contexts. As the authors of this piece, we approach these conversations from different walks of life. We hold the voices of a national sector leader with more than three decades of occupational experience in the child protection sector, of a young First Nations man, and of a young woman who grew up in a refugee family. Our perspectives and lived experience are diverse, but our message is the same: prevention is possible, prevention is urgent, and, most importantly, prevention cannot be approached in a one-size-fits-all manner. 

For millennia and time in memoriam, Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples have raised children within systems of kinship and community. Every child had many carers, guardians, and loved ones. The wellbeing of one child was felt by all. These Indigenous wisdoms show us that safety is not simply about protection after harm has occurred, it is about belonging and connection, and, ultimately, fostering a collective culture that ensures harm is prevented in the first place. Such ideas also invite us to reflect on our terminology. Is ‘protection’ really the right word to be centering these conversations around? Or, rather, is it ‘safety’ and ‘connection’ that we should be striving for? The notion of ‘protection’ implies a defensive response, whereas ‘safety’ and ‘connection’ speak to something deeper, a state of flourishing that communities themselves are best placed to self-determine and create.

For children in migrant and refugee families, the story is similar. Parents work tirelessly to keep their children safe, but often face barriers that make asking for help feel dangerous, language challenges, fear of judgment, and a lack of culturally safe services. Many young people take on adult responsibilities long before their time, not because they lack resilience but because systems fail to meet their families with trust and support. When “protection” feels like something being done to families, it reinforces fear. When we talk instead about “safety,” the conversation shifts to empowerment, families feeling confident to seek support, children knowing they will be heard, and services built on trust and respect.

Across decades of work in child protection, one lesson has become clear: prevention works, but only when we prioritise it. Too much of our national effort still goes into reacting after children have already been harmed. Crisis services are essential, but they cannot be the whole story. If we are serious about giving every child a fair go, we must shift our conversations, and our resources, towards prevention. That means secure housing, affordable childcare, mental health services, supportive workplaces and support for parents and carers. It means schools that foster belonging, neighbours who look out for one another, and communities where children’s voices are not only heard but acted upon.

At NAPCAN, we have seen what happens when conversations transform into action. Programs such as Love Bites, our consent respectful relationships education program, give young people the tools to build respectful relationships. Efforts such as our National Media Guidelines encourage journalists to tell children’s stories in ethically sound, de-stigmatising, and trauma-informed ways. Partnerships with Aboriginal, multicultural, and rural communities show that prevention only works when it reflects local strengths. Each of these initiatives began as a conversation, but they became real only when those conversations turned into initiatives with a grassroots focus. These are training sessions, campaigns, policies, and resources that changed lives.

The question that we face now is not whether prevention is possible, but whether we are willing to make the political and social commitment to embed it across every part of our socially embedded institutions and systems. Are we content to keep talking about child protection as a reactive service, or are we ready to shift the conversation to action and invest in what we know works?

This National Child Protection Week is a reminder that the safety and wellbeing of children cannot be left to the chance or whims of systems alone. The responsibility to keep kids safe belongs to all of us. From our homes to our classrooms, from our community to our parliament, each one of us has the power to turn conversations into action. Because when children are safe, they do more than survive, they thrive. And when children thrive, our communities and our nation thrive with them.

Every conversation matters. But more importantly, every conversation must lead to action.

This article was written by NAPCAN CEO Leesa Waters, in collaboration with Maryana Al Hilaly, a young Muslim woman from a refugee background, and Ruben Sherriff, a young Aboriginal man. Both Maryana and Ruben are members of NAPCAN’s Youth Advisory Group.