Re­cent na­tion­al out­rage over al­leged child sex­u­al abuse re­ports is in­dica­tive of a deep­er rot in a sys­tem that has been warned about its short­com­ings but still fails to act with the ur­gency chil­dren de­serve.

Al­ready, some NGOs have open­ly deemed the po­si­tion in which Trinidad and To­ba­go finds it­self to be a sys­temic cri­sis, and have warned that adults con­tin­ue to be the pri­ma­ry per­pe­tra­tors of child sex­u­al abuse, which aligns with cur­rent da­ta.

No­tably, in the ma­jor­i­ty of re­port­ed cas­es in this coun­try, the abuser is not a stranger lurk­ing in the shad­ows but a trust­ed adult. What ex­ac­er­bates the sit­u­a­tion is the lack of strong, in­de­pen­dent over­sight. The promised Of­fice of the Chil­dren’s Com­mis­sion­er in the Na­tion­al Child Pol­i­cy 2020–2030 re­mains just words on pa­per. If it ex­ist­ed, it could mon­i­tor in­sti­tu­tions, in­ves­ti­gate com­plaints, and en­sure child pro­tec­tion stan­dards are en­forced. It could be the watch­dog that en­sures every or­gan­i­sa­tion up­holds the rights of the child.

Af­ter every na­tion­al scan­dal in­volv­ing the abuse of chil­dren, there are calls for re­form, promis­es of bet­ter over­sight, and re­newed com­mit­ments to en­force­ment. Yet, time and again, the out­rage fades, the news cy­cle moves on, and the chil­dren most at risk re­main in en­vi­ron­ments where preda­tors can act with im­puni­ty.

The Com­mis­sion of In­quiry in­to the op­er­a­tions of chil­dren’s homes made this painful­ly clear. It ex­posed wide­spread ne­glect, abuse, and ex­ploita­tion in fa­cil­i­ties meant to shel­ter the most vul­ner­a­ble. Many of its rec­om­men­da­tions re­main unim­ple­ment­ed. Chil­dren in state care are still ex­posed to the same dan­gers the in­quiry set out to end.

The T&T As­so­ci­a­tion of So­cial Work­ers is right: li­cens­ing and reg­is­tra­tion for so­cial work­ers — and all pro­fes­sion­als work­ing with chil­dren — must be manda­to­ry.

But reg­u­la­tion alone will not save chil­dren. Pre­ven­tion re­quires a na­tion­wide com­mit­ment to ed­u­ca­tion, em­pow­er­ment, and vig­i­lance. This means im­ple­ment­ing the up­dat­ed Health and Fam­i­ly Life Ed­u­ca­tion (HFLE) cur­ricu­lum in every sec­ondary school — not even­tu­al­ly, not se­lec­tive­ly, but now. It means in­vest­ing in sur­vivor-cen­tred re­port­ing sys­tems that re­move bar­ri­ers to dis­clo­sure and en­sure that when a child speaks up, he or she is met with pro­tec­tion and ac­tion, not dis­be­lief or de­lay.

In ad­di­tion, the Child Pro­tec­tion Unit of the T&T Po­lice Ser­vice, the Chil­dren’s Au­thor­i­ty, and oth­er front­line agen­cies must be prop­er­ly re­sourced, with trained staff, ad­e­quate fund­ing, and the in­de­pen­dence to act de­ci­sive­ly, even when those ac­cused are pow­er­ful or well-con­nect­ed.

The coali­tion’s de­mands are nei­ther new nor rad­i­cal. They are the bare min­i­mum for a coun­try that claims to care about its chil­dren: im­ple­ment the up­dat­ed HFLE cur­ricu­lum in every school; es­tab­lish the Of­fice of the Chil­dren’s Com­mis­sion­er; li­cense and reg­u­late every pro­fes­sion­al who works with mi­nors; and make re­port­ing and in­ves­ti­ga­tion of abuse manda­to­ry, swift, and sur­vivor-cen­tred.

The most dan­ger­ous thing to do right now is re­treat in­to si­lence. For every child still liv­ing in fear — whether in their home, in school, or in the very state-run fa­cil­i­ties meant to pro­tect them — the next act of abuse is not a ques­tion of if, but when.