Consulted, Thanked and Ignored

Keynote speech at Lead the way Conference 2nd September 2026 (Melbourne and online)

---

WOMENJEKA – thank you so much for having me today.

I would like to begin by acknowledging the Traditional Owners of the land on which we meet today, the Wurundjeri Woi-wurrung people of the Kulin Nation, and pay my respects to their Elders past and present.

It seems fitting that a conference focused on children's voices begins where, for millennia, knowledge, responsibility and decision-making have been shared across generations. Long before this hotel stood here, long before modern governments and institutions, this was a place where listening, teaching, belonging and collective responsibility were practised.

That idea of whose voices matter, and how power is shared, sits at the heart of what I want to talk about today

I also want to acknowledge the young people who so generously took us through the dance session.

I don’t say that in passing – because it actually goes straight to the heart of what I want to talk about.

There is a version of conferences where children and young people are invited to perform for us.

They might dance, or speak on a panel – they courageously tell us their stories.

And then what usually happens is that the adults take the microphone back…

We say how inspiring they were. We thank them.

We clap.

And then we return to the very adult business of deciding what is best for them.

Because over the last three decades in overseeing, developing and implementing child protection and youth justice policy and programs, both as a child advocate and a senior bureaucrat here and abroad - I think many of us have become quite good at admiring children’s voices.

But we are less good at being changed by them.

Conversations about child voice are often framed as being about children's participation. BUT they are just as much about adult behaviour.

They require adults to be willing to surrender the comforting assumption that we already know best - and to be prepared to change our decisions, our responses - and sometimes even our understanding of the problem itself because of what children tell us.

And that is actually what matters most.

So I want to be direct about the argument I am going to make today.

First, child voice is still too often treated as a process, not a source of power. We ask children what they think, we record it, we sometimes quote it, we sometimes build a report around it. But too often by the time children are asked, the real decisions have already been made.

Second, I want to argue that if we genuinely believe children’s voices matter, then we need a proper theory of change for child voice. Not just a participation strategy. Not just a standing youth advisory group. Not another survey that disappears into a system somewhere.

I mean a real theory of change.

One that answers these questions:

How does what children tell us change the problem we define?

How does it change the policy we design?

How does it change the money we spend?

How does it change the services we commission?

How does it change how adults behave right now?

And how do children know whether anything happened after they took the risk of speaking?

Third, I want to argue that this is not only a problem for governments and big systems.

It is also about each of us in this room.

Because even if you never write a Cabinet submission, never draft a law, never sit in a Minister’s office, never control a budget, you still have enormous power over whether a child in front of you learns that their voice matters – or whether they feel dominated by you or unsafe sharing their truest fears.

Or indeed - whether they learn that adults will decide when their voice is convenient.

So while I will talk about how and where I have seen child voice truly shape systems and processes instead of being used tokenistically – I will also talk about how our individual behaviours with and towards children can suppress a child’s voice and even important disclosures – and ultimately their impression of whether a system will listen

Because children do not experience systems as flow charts, strategy documents or legislation.

They experience systems through adults: a teacher; a principal; a youth worker; a carer; a caseworker; a counsellor and even a junior policy officer they may never meet, but whose assumptions shape the options available to them.

And children are often far better than adults at detecting the gap between what we say and what we do.

They know when they are really being heard - and they know when adults have already made up their minds.

**

I have spent most of my career moving through human service systems; child protection, Youth justice, Disability, Mental health, aged care and Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander policy.

Different systems.

Different Ministers.

Different acronyms. And you know what it’s like - the acronyms change every few years, just to make sure the whole thing remains unnecessarily difficult and sounds like new stuff is happening.

But truthfully I see a very consistent pattern across the way governments and bureaucracies administer these systems.

The people most affected by decisions are often furthest from the power to shape them.

And systems have become very good at making that distance look respectable.

We call it consultation.

We call it engagement.

We call it co-design.

Sometimes we mean it.

And sometimes, if we are honest, we use the language of participation to make adult control sound more generous than it is.

I do not say that to be cynical because I have to emphasise: .Most people working in these systems are trying to do the right thing.

But good intentions do not redesign power.

That is what I have learned across almost every system I have worked in.

The greatest barrier to better outcomes is rarely that the people affected have nothing useful to say.

It is that the system has not been built to be changed by what they say.

That was the most fundamental reason we found that the National Agreement on  Closing the Gap was failing when I was at the Productivity Commission.

And again, I found similarly in aged care when I was most recently Inspector-General.

And I see time and time again, it is absolutely true of children in education, child protection and youth justice.

**

One of the clearest examples I have seen of adults deciding they understand the problem before genuinely understanding children's experience of it is the debate about online safety and social media restrictions.

Now, I am not here to argue that online harms are not real. They are. Governments are right to want to act.

But what struck me about Australia's response was not simply that children were not involved early enough. It was that the intervention was largely decided before there had been any meaningful attempt to understand how children themselves experienced the problem.

Consultation occurred later, once the policy direction was already substantially settled. And even then, many young people and advocates argued that the process was too limited to genuinely test alternative approaches or seriously account for children's views about what would make them safer.

That matters because back in the days when I ran Child Wise – we made a documentary together with a youth arts group where children and young people were disarmingly honest about their safety and depression online, and they quite often described a different problem to the one adults were most focused on.

 Incontrovertibly, there are online spaces that create safety and belonging where children could and would never find that in their day-to-day, face-to-face lives. Pulling the pin on supportive (and professionally facilitated) chat spaces for kids who had experienced abuse, for transgender kids, for kids who experienced isolation where they live – arose as the greatest removal of safety.

But if we want to talk about the dangers that the online world posts to kids - adults tend to talk about online danger primarily in terms of predatory strangers. Yep - that threat absolutely exists. But many children told us that some of the most significant harms in their online lives came from other children: bullying, humiliation, exclusion, image-sharing, social pressure and cruelty amplified through digital platforms. [EXAMPLE of 14 year old who described the difference in how he would communicate to female friends online versus in person]

What many children said would change the dial - was not just education about how to protect themselves from strangers, but a much bigger conversation about how we treat each other online. In other words, children were not simply offering feedback on an existing solution. They were helping redefine the problem itself.

This is where the lesson lies. We now have a policy facing implementation challenges, widespread workarounds, questions about enforceability and ongoing debate about unintended consequences. This could have been changed by listening and acting on children’s voices earlier – and honestly.

**

Now, at this point, someone may quite reasonably say:

“All right, but where is the evidence that acting on children’s recommendations or views make for better outcomes and better policy?”

Well – I want to frame this as the ultimate evidence question for all government policy: we still struggle to treat lived experience as the most authoritative evidence in the room – and the ultimate validator of whether policies are achieving their outcomes or not

Right across every policy area for which I have been a part of the machine, or the oversight body or the advocate, I see a common underlying problem which is most acute when it comes to children’s voices.

We do not require professional expertise to prove it has lived experience before it is heard.

But lived experience is often asked to prove its own expertise.

Take a look at the growing evidence base: In the United States, where this has been studied most closely, schools and classrooms where students experience adults as genuinely responsive to their views show stronger engagement and in one recent study of more than 1,700 middle and high school students - better attendance and better grades as well.

Here is the detail from that study that gives us a microcosm of the impact we can have by changing our approach: Having just one teacher who genuinely sought students' input was associated with greater agency, better maths grades, a higher grade point average and fewer absences than having none.

Now you might reasonably ask whether any of that holds in an Australian classroom. The answer appears to be yes. Australian research has found that when students have a genuine say in the things that affect them, their wellbeing, engagement and learning improve. The common thread is not participation for participation's sake.

It is being taken seriously by adults. That is why our own Gonski review argued that students should be treated as partners in their learning rather than passive recipients of it.

The US study is part of a bigger project – the Student Voice to Student Outcomes Study – which looked closely at what actually makes the difference.

And listen to this: the MEASURE was not simply whether students had opportunities to express themselves –( how many times have I seen that as what we count!!!) – but rather whether adults were responsive. I want you to think about that cos it really is the kicker and I will return to it in a moment.

But for now I want to share with you that the study found measures of school-level and classroom-level student voice, particularly adult responsiveness to student perspectives, were associated with academic engagement. Responsiveness was such a strong signal that it became part of how you validly measure student voice at all. Now – that is a correlation, not proof. But sit with what it implies. Most systems are reasonably good at creating opportunities for children to talk. Far fewer are designed to ensure adults are changed by what they hear.

There is another body of evidence that I think is just as important. It comes from Youth Participatory Action Research, where young people help define the issue, gather evidence, make sense of it and advocate for change alongside adults.

A systematic review of 63 studies found that the most common benefit - was growth in young people's own agency and leadership. And growth in academic and career outcomes showed up in more than half.

Although the research cannot yet prove cause and effect, the direction is unmistakable.

Because what they are describing is that young people were not simply contributing to better decisions. They were becoming more capable citizens in the process. They learned that they could influence the world around them.

And related work by the same research group turned the lens around and looked at what happens to the adults. It found that facilitating this kind of work changes them. They identify problems earlier; They have long-held assumptions challenged. They design responses much closer to the reality of young people's lives.

So here’s a bit of a heretical challenge: what if we stopped talking about child voice as though it is just a rights issue? It is a rights issue, but it is also an effectiveness issue. It is a quality issue. It is an implementation issue.

Put simply, systems make better decisions when they understand the lived experience of the people affected by them. The lesson from this research is not that children should be allowed to speak because it is nice. It is that when children have genuine influence, outcomes improve.

The real question, therefore, is not whether children had a chance to voice an opinion. It is whether adults were prepared to do something differently because of it.

***

This brings me to a question I have raised in aged care, and almost every other area of social policy in this country.

Are we measuring what we value, or simply valuing what we measure?

Because systems inevitably move towards whatever they count. If we measure consultations, we get consultations. If we measure attendance at youth forums, we get youth forums. But none of that tells us whether children had any influence.

It doesn’t tell us whether the thing we should actually value, has occurred.

If we say children’s voices matter, but the only thing we measure is whether a student survey was conducted, or a youth forum was held, we should not be surprised when child voice becomes performative.

Not because people are cynical but because systems pull towards being all about what they measure. What we measure can distort our practice – or conversely, pull it in the right direction.

If we value children’s influence, we need to measure influence.

If we value trust we create with children, we need to measure trust.

If we value children’s safety in speaking up, we need to know whether children feel safe to speak up.

If we value child-centred policy, we need to be able to show where children changed the policy.

Otherwise, we are not measuring what we value.

We are just valuing what is easiest to report.

And that is how child voice gets flattened into adult paperwork.

**

If I were applying a simple test to a government policy, organisational reform or administrative system that claimed to value child voice, it would be this: what was genuinely open to influence when children were invited in?

What changed because they spoke, and do children believe it was worth taking the risk of speaking up?

That means asking harder questions than whether consultation occurred:

Were children involved early enough to help define the problem, or only late enough to comment on an answer adults had already reached?

Did we hear from the children who are easiest to hear, those who might have the capacity and family backing to participate on ready-to-access advisory groups or councils or panels - or did we also hear those who are most affected?

What did children tell us that challenged our assumptions, and what did we do differently as a result?

Those questions move child voice from performance to accountability. Sharing power does not mean children get everything they ask for.

Adults still have responsibilities to make decisions, manage risk and balance competing interests. But it does mean we cannot keep defining the problem, designing the options, controlling implementation, measuring success and then congratulating ourselves for inviting children to comment.

Children know the difference between having a voice and having influence. And so should we.

**

This lesson is not unique to children. In our review of the National Agreement on Closing the Gap at the Productivity Commission, Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander communities knew what was working, what was not, and where government systems were undermining their own objectives.

In aged care, older people know what gives life dignity, purpose and connection. The challenge was never a lack of lived experience or insight. It was whether systems were prepared to share power and act on what they heard.

The same is true for children. They know when school feels safe and when it humiliates. They know when discipline feels fair and when it is simply adult control with better language. They know when a system protects them and when it merely manages them.

The question is not whether children have insight. The question is whether adults are prepared to hear it when it challenges the story we are telling ourselves.

**

That is the holy grail we need to chase at the system level.

But now I want to bring this right down to the everyday.

Because I am going to say something very uncomfortable here: there is a trap in a room like this.

Whenever we talk about systems, it is very easy to send the responsibility upward.

To Ministers, secretaries, Commissioners and even just senior management.

And sure, those people carry serious responsibility.

But if we only send the argument upward, the rest of us get a little too comfortable.

Because for most children, the system is not a Minister or a department or a policy document.

It is the adult standing in front of them.

I am talking about in the very ordinary environment of a school, or a protective intervention or non-government service delivery

Because that is where children learn whether adults are safe - or not.

**

I want you to think for a minute about what we teach children in protective behaviours education.

If something feels wrong, tell a trusted adult.

If someone hurts you, tell a teacher.

If something frightening happens online, tell someone.

We say this all the time.

And we should.

But now imagine you are the child: You are 10.

Maybe you are in trouble at school for something small, but there is a reason behind it, and you are trying to explain yourself.

When you try to explain your side of the story, for the first time to explain what has happened you hear that age old phrase I have heard teachers say

“don’t talk back”, “Don’t backchat.”

Or:

“Enough. I’ve heard enough.”

It is often accompanied by the adult raising their voice in a way they would never raise it to another adult.

What does the child learn?

The child hears “My voice is more important than yours”.

The child learns: “I will tell you when you get a voice. What is fair and just for you will be my decision without hearing your perspective.”

They learn: this adult is not safe with my perspective.

And if they are not safe with my small perspective, why would I trust them with my frightening one, no matter how many times I am told ‘to tell someone’.

That is the part I think we underestimate.

Children rarely begin with the biggest disclosure.

They test the ground.

They tell us something small.

And then they watch whether we punish the tone and miss the message.

They watch whether we care more about compliance than truth.

And if enough small attempts go badly, they learn.

Then later, when the serious thing comes out, adults ask:

“Why didn’t they tell someone?”

Maybe they did.

Maybe they told us ten times in smaller ways that they needed to know whether we could be trusted.

We often talk about child voice as though it is something that happens in youth advisory groups, consultations and formal decision-making processes. But for most children, it lives in everyday interactions with adults. In whether we listen; whether we interrupt; In whether we treat explanation as insight or as defiance. In whether we can tolerate challenge without asserting authority.

[EXAMPLE OF JUNO WITH THE FIRE ALARM AT SCHOOL]

Imagine if that were a real fire alarm and Juno was shouted down.

By the time a child has something significant to tell us, abuse, bullying, exploitation, self-harm, fear or distress, they are not making a judgement based on the poster on the wall or the policy on the website. They are making a judgement based on the hundreds of interactions that came before it with that adult.

**

If our commitment to child voice only extends to the children who can package their pain politely, then it is not really child voice.

It is adult comfort.

**

Because the protective behaviours curriculum can say “tell a teacher” as many times as it likes.

But if the culture of the school teaches children that speaking up is risky, the culture will beat the curriculum.

Every time.

**

So let me finish with a challenge. Not whether you agree that children should have a voice. Most people in this room already do. The question is: what are you going to do differently when you walk out of here?

If you are a policy-maker, a departmental leader, or someone who has the ear of Ministers, Secretaries or Directors-General, are you prepared to shift the measure of success from consultation to influence?

Are you prepared to insist that child voice shapes how problems are defined, not merely how pre-determined solutions are implemented? Are you prepared to share power before decisions are made, not afterwards?

If you lead a school, a region, a service or a team, are you prepared to make children's trust in the adults around them the measure of success - By truly asking: Do children believe they can speak honestly here? Do they believe adults will listen, respond fairly, and take their concerns seriously? Can you reward performance not simply for maintaining order or process, but for building relationships strong enough that children feel safe to disagree, explain themselves and seek help?

Are you courageous enough to ensure that the children who are hardest to hear are not the ones left out of the conversation?

And if you are a teacher, practitioner or frontline worker, perhaps the question is even simpler. How will you respond differently the next time a child challenges you, disagrees with you, explains themselves or tells you something difficult?

Because children’s voices lives in those moments.

Ultimately, the test of child voice is not whether children speak. It is whether adults are prepared to listen in ways that require us to change.