The family courts in England and Wales have come under unprecedented criticism after a government minister publicly stated that they are “not good enough” for women and children. For many parents who have spent months—or even years—navigating private law children proceedings, the remarks will feel less like a revelation and more like an acknowledgment of lived reality. Delays, inconsistent decision-making, concerns around domestic abuse, and the growing number of litigants in person have fuelled calls for reform across the family justice system. But what do these comments actually mean for families currently involved in proceedings, and will the latest reforms be enough to restore confidence in a system that determines the futures of thousands of children every year?

Family Courts “Not Good Enough” for Women and Children? What the Minister’s Warning Really Means for Parents in England and Wales

When a justice minister says publicly that the family courts in England and Wales are “not good enough” for women and children, that is not just another political soundbite. It is an admission from inside government that something is fundamentally wrong with the way too many families experience private law children proceedings.

For years, parents have been told to trust the process. Many have. Many have entered the family court believing that if they explain the abuse clearly enough, provide the evidence carefully enough, and remain child-focused throughout, the system will identify risk early and make protective, proportionate decisions. Too often, that has not been their experience.

Instead, many litigants describe a system that is slow, reactive, inconsistent, intimidating, and still too willing to treat allegations of domestic abuse, coercive control, and post-separation harm as secondary to the drive to restore or preserve parental contact. That does not mean every case is mishandled. It does mean that the concerns are too widespread, too familiar, and too serious to dismiss as isolated complaints.

This matters because private law children proceedings are not abstract legal disputes. They determine where a child lives, who a child sees, what safeguards are put in place, how risk is assessed, and whether a survivor of abuse is effectively required to continue navigating a system shaped by the person they say harmed them. For mothers, children, and indeed any protective parent, the stakes are obvious: safety, stability, and the long-term emotional welfare of the child.

What exactly has been said?

The recent reporting follows a significant shift in tone and policy from government. The Ministry of Justice has already announced the national rollout of the newly named Child Focused Courts model, formerly known as the Private Law Pathfinder, across England and Wales. The stated aim is clear: to resolve cases more quickly, identify risk earlier, hear children better, and reduce further trauma for families in private law children cases.

That is not happening in a vacuum. It sits alongside the government’s previously announced plan to repeal the presumption of parental involvement from the Children Act 1989 framework, on the basis that an entrenched assumption in favour of ongoing parental involvement can, in some cases, work against child safety and can perpetuate abuse. That is an important point. The criticism is not that loving, safe parental relationships do not matter. Of course they do. The criticism is that a legal and cultural “pro-contact” starting point can distort analysis where abuse, coercion, fear, and unsafe dynamics are present.

In other words, the issue is not contact as such. The issue is what happens when contact becomes the objective rather than a welfare-driven outcome.

Why this matters so much in private law children cases

Private law children proceedings under section 8 of the Children Act 1989 are often described as disputes between parents. That description can be dangerously incomplete. In many cases, especially those involving allegations of domestic abuse, coercive control, stalking, intimidation, sexual violence, or child emotional harm, the proceedings are not merely about a “disagreement” over arrangements. They are about the court’s ability to identify patterns of harm and to make orders that protect children while avoiding the re-enactment of abuse through the litigation process itself.

That is precisely why survivors, campaigners, and many practitioners have been warning for years about a culture in which abuse is minimised, coercive control is under-weighted, and the pressure to move toward contact can override proper scrutiny. It is also why Practice Direction 12J exists: because allegations of domestic abuse in child arrangements proceedings are not peripheral. They go directly to welfare, risk, and the court’s decision-making responsibilities.

Yet having a Practice Direction is not the same as having a system that applies it well, consistently, and early enough. A recurrent problem in family proceedings has been delay in getting to the real issues. By the time allegations are narrowed, the evidence is organised, safeguarding is updated, and any fact-finding is listed, months may have passed. During that time, children may be in limbo, survivors may be under immense stress, and interim arrangements may harden into a de facto status quo that becomes difficult to dislodge later.

The phrase “not good enough” should not be watered down

Those words matter. They should not be softened into something more comfortable. “Not good enough” is a serious criticism when it comes from a minister responsible for justice. It implies not simply isolated failures but systemic inadequacy.

There is a tendency in family justice discussion to retreat into process language: complexity, balance, competing rights, difficult facts, overloaded courts, constrained resources. Some of that is true. Family cases are difficult. Judges do face hard decisions. Evidence is often incomplete. Not every allegation is proved. Not every concern is well founded. But none of that excuses a system in which women and children can emerge feeling that the structure itself did not understand the nature of the harm they were trying to explain.

Where a mother describes coercive control, or a child’s distress is treated as resistance to contact rather than a possible indicator of fear, or repeated litigation becomes a vehicle for continuing control, the court process can become part of the problem. That is the uncomfortable truth behind much of the criticism.

And to be blunt, litigants in person often bear the worst of it. A parent without representation may have to explain abuse in a procedurally disciplined way, comply with directions, manage disclosure, prepare statements and schedules, respond to allegations, and keep their child’s welfare central throughout, all while emotionally exhausted and often financially overstretched. If the system is not designed to recognise and reduce those pressures, it can easily reward the more organised, more resourced, or more legally experienced party rather than the safer parent.

The child-focused model: genuine reform or rebranding?

This is the right question. Whenever government announces reform, people are entitled to ask whether it is substance or packaging.

The Child Focused Courts model appears to aim at real structural change. Its emphasis is on earlier information gathering, joined-up working between agencies, better identification of domestic abuse and other harms, hearing the child’s experience more effectively, and reducing delay. That is promising. If a model genuinely changes what information the court has at the start, how quickly safeguarding concerns are identified, and how children’s experiences are integrated into the case, it can change outcomes.

But reform should be judged by what it does on the ground, not by the elegance of its policy language.

The real test is practical:

• Are allegations of abuse being identified earlier and treated more seriously?
• Are coercive and controlling behaviours being properly understood, rather than dismissed because they do not fit an outdated image of abuse?
• Are children’s voices being heard in a way that is meaningful rather than tokenistic?
• Are unsafe interim arrangements being avoided?
• Are cases being resolved more quickly without sacrificing proper scrutiny?
• Are survivors being supported through the process rather than simply processed by it?

If the answer to those questions becomes yes in day-to-day practice, then this reform will matter. If not, “child-focused” risks becoming another label attached to a system that still defaults to adult-driven litigation.

The deeper issue: family justice has long had a credibility problem

For many years, there has been a credibility gap between what the system says it does and what many parents say they experience. Officially, the child’s welfare is paramount. Officially, domestic abuse is taken seriously. Officially, the court’s task is a careful welfare-based evaluation of what is best for the particular child. All of that is true as a matter of legal principle.

But lived experience has often exposed a different reality: one where procedure overwhelms substance, where contact is treated as inherently restorative, where emotional harm is underestimated, where findings are postponed but pressure toward contact continues, and where a protective parent may be viewed through the lens of “obstruction” simply for raising risk consistently.

This is one reason why the debate around the presumption of parental involvement has become so important. The legal presumption has always been more nuanced than some public discussion suggests. It is not a presumption of equal time, nor an absolute rule that both parents must have direct contact in every case. Even so, in practice, presumptive thinking can shape professional culture. It can encourage a mindset that begins from “how do we make this contact happen?” instead of “what does this child’s safety and welfare require in this case?”

That distinction is everything.

What about the planned repeal of the presumption of parental involvement?

This is one of the most significant proposed shifts in family justice policy for years.

At present, section 1(2A) of the Children Act 1989 contains the statutory presumption that, unless the contrary is shown, involvement of a parent in the life of the child will further the child’s welfare. In legal terms, that has always been subject to welfare and safety. In practical terms, critics argue that it has contributed to a culture in which contact can be treated as the destination even where risk is unresolved.

The government’s stated intention to repeal that presumption is therefore not merely symbolic. It sends a message that welfare analysis should not be built on an assumption that parental involvement is beneficial unless disproved. Instead, the court should start where it always ought to start: with the child, the facts, the risks, and the evidence.

That said, parents should be realistic. Repeal of the presumption, if and when it is legislated for, will not magically solve evidential problems, inconsistent judicial approaches, poor case management, or the emotional and financial strain of proceedings. Nor will it remove the need for the court to distinguish between genuine risk and exaggerated or unfounded allegations. What it may do is shift the legal and cultural baseline toward a more safety-first analysis.

Why women and children are so often mentioned together in this debate

Some people react defensively to criticism framed around women and children, as though naming those groups somehow excludes fairness to fathers. That is the wrong way to read the issue.

The point is not that mothers are always right or fathers are always wrong. The point is that family court failures often track patterns of domestic abuse, coercion, and post-separation control in ways that disproportionately affect women and children. Where a mother has experienced abuse, the child may have experienced it too directly or indirectly. The child’s welfare cannot be separated neatly from the abusive dynamics between the adults. Nor can the mother’s ability to parent safely be detached from the pressure, fear, and destabilisation caused by ongoing litigation or unsafe contact arrangements.

That is why a simplistic “both parents matter equally in all cases” approach can be so misleading. Safe, beneficial parental involvement matters. But when one parent presents a risk, the law must be capable of saying so clearly and acting on it decisively.

There is nothing anti-father about demanding that family courts understand abuse properly. In fact, a genuinely child-focused system should benefit all safe parents, including fathers who are themselves protective, non-abusive, and child-centred.

What litigants in person need to understand right now

If you are currently in proceedings, the immediate position is this: the rhetoric is changing, the policy direction is changing, and the government is plainly signalling dissatisfaction with the current system. But your case will still be decided under the law and procedure as they stand now.

That means you still need to do the practical work.

You need a clear chronology. You need your evidence organised. You need to distinguish allegation from proof, pattern from isolated incident, concern from submission, and child-focused welfare analysis from understandable parental anger. You need to understand the legal framework the court is applying: the welfare principle, the welfare checklist where relevant, the role of CAFCASS, the significance of PD12J in domestic abuse cases, and the importance of proportionality in any fact-finding process.

You also need to be very careful with language. Family courts respond badly to scattergun accusations and undisciplined narratives. The stronger approach is structured, evidence-led, and focused relentlessly on what the child has experienced, what the risks are, how those risks affect welfare, and what order would best protect and promote the child’s interests.

That is especially important where the other party is likely to frame you as hostile to contact. Courts are often alert to the possibility of one parent undermining another. If you are raising genuine welfare concerns, you need to present them as such: not as punishment, not as score-settling, not as grievance, but as child protection and child welfare points grounded in evidence and logic.

The danger of reform without accountability

There is another point that should not be missed. Reform is not only about changing process. It is about accountability for whether the new process works.

If Child Focused Courts are to become the national model, there needs to be rigorous scrutiny of outcomes. That means looking not only at speed, though speed matters, but also at safety, repeat applications, children’s experiences, judicial consistency, interim arrangements, and the quality of decision-making where abuse is alleged. A faster court is not necessarily a better court if it is simply reaching unsafe outcomes more efficiently.

Equally, a system cannot call itself child-focused merely because it uses the language of children’s voices. The real question is whether the child’s lived experience alters the legal response. If a child’s fear, distress, or exposure to coercive control is recorded but then effectively set aside, the system has not become child-focused. It has just become better at documenting its own failure.

What should happen next?

If government is serious, the next phase cannot stop at headline reform. Several things need to happen.

First, there must be sustained investment in the courts, support services, and specialist safeguarding responses. A better model cannot run on empty.

Second, domestic abuse understanding must be deepened across the system, especially in relation to coercive and controlling behaviour, post-separation abuse, litigation abuse, and the way children experience harm in households marked by fear and instability.

Third, there must be discipline around interim decision-making. Too much harm can occur before the final welfare hearing. Unsafe interim contact, unmanaged handovers, or poorly considered arrangements can destabilise children long before a case is fully tried.

Fourth, the court process must remain accessible to litigants in person. A system that is theoretically protective but practically impossible to navigate is not a just system.

Fifth, there must be honesty. Family justice cannot rebuild trust through reassurance alone. It will rebuild trust only by acknowledging where it has gone wrong and showing, in real cases, that different decisions are being made for better reasons.

My view: this is an important admission, but not yet a victory

The minister’s comments matter. They matter because they validate what many women, survivors, and child-focused campaigners have been saying for years: that the family courts have too often failed to protect properly, failed to hear children well enough, and failed to understand abuse in the forms it most commonly appears after separation.

But an admission is not a cure.

The family courts in England and Wales are at a critical point. There is now a real opportunity to move away from a culture that has too often treated contact as the benchmark of success and toward one that treats child safety, emotional welfare, and reality-based risk assessment as the benchmark instead.

That would be progress. Serious progress.

But until parents in ordinary cases can feel that the process is fair, that abuse is understood, that children are heard, and that unsafe dynamics are not dressed up as co-parenting problems, the criticism will remain justified.

“Not good enough” is therefore not the end of the conversation. It is the starting point for what has to come next.

And frankly, it is long overdue.

Need help preparing for family court? If you are a litigant in person dealing with child arrangements proceedings, domestic abuse allegations, CAFCASS issues, fact-finding directions, or concerns about how to present your evidence clearly and safely, early case strategy can make a real difference.