Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander readers are advised this article contains names and images of people who have died.
When a First Nations child dies unexpectedly, Australia often reaches for the same responses: to blame, seek more inquiries, implement tougher laws and stronger powers to intervene.
But if the only answer is the faster removal of children, Australia will keep repeating the same cycle.
The death of Kumanjayi Little Baby in the Northern Territory again placed Aboriginal child protection in the national spotlight. The debate quickly turned to whether "child safety" should be placed above culture in child protection decisions.
But for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander children, culture is not separate from safety. Family, kinship, language, Country and community are not optional extras to be added later. They are part of what safety means.
So what works to better protect First Nations children?
Indigenous people across the country face a range of social policy challenges, many of which are often politicised. In this three-part series, experts examine issues with child protection, violence and reconciliation and look at evidence-based policy approaches that would help improve the lives of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people.
How does child protection work?
Child protection is governed by each state and territory. Each jurisdiction has its own laws, departments, courts and policies.
This means the state or territory assesses whether a child is safe, decides whether they should stay with family, and, if not, where they should live.
For Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander children, the placement principle says children should stay connected to family, community, culture and Country wherever safely possible.
But too often, these principles are applied through state systems that still hold most of the power.
The long shadow of history
Australia's child protection systems have a long, often dark history.
They sit in the shadow of paternal protection and assimilation policies that removed Aboriginal children from family, identity and culture. First Nations child removal in New South Wales and other state systems have repeatedly used the language of welfare and benevolence while producing deep cultural and family dislocation.
The language has now changed. Governments no longer talk openly about assimilation. They talk about "risk", "safety", "best interests" and "permanency" instead.
But many Aboriginal families still experience child protection as surveillance, judgement and removal.
This does not mean children should remain in unsafe homes. Some children need urgent protection.
But Australia needs to be honest about what the current system can and cannot do.
Where it goes wrong
Child protection often arrives late. It steps in when a family is already in crisis. But removing a child does not build a house, reduce poverty, heal trauma or provide culturally safe early support.
It can mistake poverty for neglect . Overcrowded housing, food insecurity, family violence, poor access to services and untreated trauma can be read as parental failure, when they also reflect wider government failure.
Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander children remain disproportionately represented at all stages of child protection systems in all states and territories.
But this is not accidental . It reflects past and ongoing systemic racism.
Another problem is that child protection systems often misunderstand Aboriginal ways, communities and kinship. Kinship is not just a placement category. It's a system of responsibility, belonging and care.
In my work on kinship care, I have argued Aboriginal kinship extends beyond Western ideas of the nuclear family and cannot be reduced to simple categories such as "relative" or "non-relative".
This matters because child protection systems often say they support kinship care while forcing Aboriginal carers to fit into bureaucratic rules that do not reflect Aboriginal family life.
Recent research on Aboriginal kinship carers in Western Australia also shows many carers feel undervalued and unsupported.
This also matters for a concept called permanency. In child protection, "permanency" usually means giving a child a stable legal placement. That's important, but for Aboriginal children, legal permanence is not enough if it comes at the cost of cultural permanence.
Permanency planning has often lacked a strong evidence base for First Nations children and can fail when it prioritises legal stability over connection, belonging and Aboriginal child-rearing practices.
So what works to protect Indigenous children?
When we ask "what works?", there are really two questions.
The first is: what works better inside the current child protection system?
The evidence suggests Aboriginal children should be placed with family, kin and community wherever safely possible. Aboriginal kinship carers need proper financial, legal, emotional and practical support. Cultural support plans need to be more than paperwork.
The Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Child Placement Principle must be applied in consultation with First Nations peoples, many of whom hold the knowledge needed to make decisions about their children.
A recent parliamentary review of new child protection laws in the Northern Territory reveals a major divide between what politicians think will help and public concern in Indigenous communities. Listening to what people experiencing these systems have to say is key.
These reforms matter because many Aboriginal children and carers are already inside the current system. They need better support now.
But the second question is more important: what works beyond the current system?
We need to shift power and funding away from late-stage legal intervention and towards Aboriginal community-controlled systems of child safety and wellbeing.
These systems begin with family support, housing, healing, early childhood care, language, culture, Elders, kinship and Country. They do not wait for families to collapse before offering help.
The Minintitja Care Model in Menindee, New South Wales, is one example. This model was designed and delivered by a First Nations community. It's grounded in the idea that being raised by and within one's mob, immersed in culture and surrounded by community responsibility, is central to Aboriginal wellbeing.
The question this model asks is very different from the usual child protection question. It does not begin with: "Where can the state place this child?" It begins with: "Who already holds responsibility for this child, and what support does the family and community need to keep that child safe, strong and connected?"
Child safety needs to start much earlier. Research suggests prevention begins well before child protection, starting with perinatal care .
The bottom line is simple. Some children will always need urgent protection from serious harm. But a system built around late intervention and removal will never create safety at scale.
If governments are serious about protecting Aboriginal children, they need to stop treating culture as a competing concern. Culture is protective.
The real test is not whether governments can remove children faster. It is whether they can invest early enough, deeply enough and respectfully enough that fewer children need to be removed at all.
The authors do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
