The photograph accompanying this article was taken just last Monday. It shows posters displayed barely a metre from the room where the House Committee on Human Rights was in session that same day. The location is significant. Outside, the posters urged victims to “Break the Silence”, calling on them to speak out. Inside, however, a stark contradiction unfolded - while we publicly encourage victims to come forward, the very state mechanisms meant to support them often act in ways that lead to their re-victimisation.
This gap between message and reality - between the call to speak out and the systemic handling of such cases - is becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. What is promised as a path to justice frequently becomes a labyrinth of procedures that delay, obscure, and ultimately silence.
The session concerned an allegation of sexual harassment involving a senior official at the Ministry of Education and two of his subordinates. Despite the seriousness of the case, it emerged that the file has yet to be sent to the Ombudsperson’s Office, even though the request was made back in November 2024. The Ministry cited the need for legal advice from the Attorney General’s Office. Yet both MPs and the Ombudsperson were clear: the law does not require any such legal opinion for the file to be handed over. The delay is not just procedural - it risks becoming an act of suppression.
Each postponement contributes to a wider perception, and reality, of institutional cover-up. Every day the accused remains in position, and every bureaucratic obstacle placed in the victim’s path, is a failure of justice. Victims are subjected to repeated questioning by the same bodies, and those in positions of responsibility remain largely silent - reinforcing a system that drains victims rather than supports them.
What this case has highlighted is not just a failure in policy, but a failure in practice. Even where clear legal frameworks exist, without consistent and compassionate implementation, the law becomes meaningless. The state may proclaim, “Do not be afraid to speak out”, but it follows up with an unspoken clause: “...unless the process allows it.”
And let us be clear: the issue isn’t simply the lack of laws or protocols. For the most part, those exist - albeit with some gaps. But they exist mostly on paper. The real question is what happens in practice. The suggestion to allow for independent investigations of such allegations, outside of the ministry involved, is a welcome step forward. Yet legislation alone is not enough. Without robust oversight and accountability mechanisms, these legal guarantees are little more than symbolic gestures.
The posters outside parliament will likely remain in place, urging victims to break their silence. But when they do, will they be met by a state ready to stand beside them - or by a system designed to wear them down until they fall silent again?
From the message on a corridor wall in parliament to the labyrinthine processes victims must endure, it is clear that the journey from 'Break the Silence' to actual justice remains perilously incomplete. Until institutions stop covering up and start protecting, silence, tragically, will remain the safest choice for many victims.