The Truth Project: IICSA

The Truth Project was introduced as part of a larger initiative to provide survivors of child sexual abuse with a safe space to share their experiences. It promised that these accounts would contribute to research, learning, and systemic change. Over six years, more than 6,000 survivors shared their stories, with their experiences recorded, anonymized, and analyzed for future study. An awareness campaign spanning television, radio, and press aimed to ensure a representative range of participants.

Having been one of those statistics, I have mixed feelings about the Truth Project. On the surface, the initiative seemed positive, offering survivors a platform to be heard. However, as time has passed, I am left questioning its real impact—not just on me but on the wider survivor community.

The project claimed it would provide a legacy for study and learning, but what tangible outcomes have resulted from it? What has been carried through into practice in a way that truly benefits victims? Survivors often shared their stories at great personal cost, reliving trauma with the hope that it would lead to meaningful change. Yet, the lack of transparency around what has been achieved leaves many of us feeling used—our stories reduced to research data without the justice or systemic reform we hoped for.

Of course, some survivors may have had positive experiences, feeling genuinely heard. But for others, like myself, the process felt hollow. At the time, it seemed constructive, but in hindsight, it feels like our voices were cherry-picked, heard only in the confines of a room, and not carried forward in a meaningful way. The process itself could also be triggering. I recall traveling to Cardiff, waiting in a nondescript room, and being taken to another space where I shared my story. While the listener was kind, the experience felt more like an interview than a safe, trauma-informed process. For some, especially those who had negative experiences with police interviews, this could have been retraumatizing.

Statistics Raise Questions

The data published by the project highlights important insights. 9% of participants disclosed abuse for the first time and had never reported it previously. This is significant, as it demonstrates the trust survivors placed in the Truth Project. Additionally, 47% of disclosures involved abuse by a family member, shedding light on the challenges of addressing abuse within the home.

But here lies the problem: despite these statistics, we are not seeing the convictions, accountability, or sentences that such disclosures should lead to. Survivors were required to sign disclaimers allowing information to be shared with the police where necessary for safeguarding purposes. While this is understandable, it raises crucial questions:

• How many of these disclosures were shared with police forces?
• Of those, how many led to convictions?
• Did this process make any tangible difference, or was it simply another instance of information-sharing with no follow-up or accountability?

For some survivors, these police referrals resulted in phone calls or contact from law enforcement. In my case, I wasn’t concerned, as my father had already been convicted and released. But for others, this could have been incredibly distressing—especially if it didn’t result in justice or meaningful action.

Reports and Frameworks: But What Do They Mean?

The IICSA did produce a wealth of publications and an outcomes framework intended to guide future action. However, for many survivors, these feel abstract and inaccessible. The term “framework” itself is vague. Are these enforceable measures, or are they merely guidelines that can be ignored? How many of the recommendations have been implemented in a way that survivors can see and feel in their lives?

Survivors like me are left wondering what our contributions truly achieved. Without professional involvement in these systems, how are we supposed to know the impact of our participation? The reports are there, but how many survivors even know they exist?

A Call for Change

This experience highlights a broader issue with public inquiries: they often focus on “lessons learned” but fail to translate findings into actionable, survivor-led change. For those of us who came forward, the process often feels like a tick-box exercise—an opportunity for organizations to appear proactive while failing to deliver real results.

Survivors deserve transparency, accountability, and inclusion. We are not just statistics or research subjects; we are people with lived experiences who have much to contribute. Yet, public inquiries often exclude us from the very processes we were promised would lead to change.

Inquiries like the Truth Project must be victim-focused and trauma-informed from start to finish. Survivors should not feel like their stories are merely data points in a report. Without tangible outcomes—whether in the form of systemic reform, increased convictions, or visible changes in survivor support—the trust placed in these initiatives risks being eroded.

Ultimately, survivors deserve more than findings and frameworks; we deserve to see our courage validated through meaningful, lasting change. Until that happens, we will continue to question whether these initiatives truly serve the survivor community or simply maintain the status quo.