Child abduction laws are meant to protect domestic abuse survivors – but put them in danger

For many women, leaving a partner. to escape abuse is never the end of the story, writes Charlotte Proudman. It is the beginning of a new battle – not just against the perpetrators, but also outdated laws and the legal systems meant to protect them

“Why didn’t you just leave?” – it’s a question almost every survivor of domestic abuse has faced.

As a barrister, I’ve represented countless women who fled to other countries with their children, desperate to escape violent and controlling partners. But leaving is never the end of the story.

For many, it marks the beginning of a new battle – one fought not just against their abuser, but within the very legal systems meant to protect them. Escaping abuse is one of the most dangerous times for women and children, especially when perpetrators know how to weaponise the law to regain control.

I can tell you exactly how this scenario usually plays out: the mother, along with her children, is likely to be ordered by the High Court to board a plane and return to the reach of her abuser. More often than not, she ends up back in the same country, sometimes the same town, and in the most harrowing cases, even under his roof – all of it sanctioned by the court. You might be wondering – how is this possible?

It all starts with the 1980 Hague Convention – an outdated piece of legislation, created with the laudable aim of protecting children from international abduction and preventing wrongful removal by abusive parents. But, in reality, it is often turned against survivors of domestic abuse, particularly mothers, who flee across borders with their children in search of safety.

Violent ex-partners use the Convention to bring cases in the High Court, demanding the immediate return of the child, and they’re often granted free legal representation through legal aid. Meanwhile, the mothers – fighting to avoid returning to a country many describe as a “prison” – are dragged through exhausting, high-stakes proceedings that can last months or even years, with no guarantee of free representation.

I will never forget representing Lisa – a case I recount anonymously in my new book, He Said, She Said: Truth, Trauma, and the Struggle for Justice in Family Court.

After years of physical, emotional and psychological abuse, Lisa fled Australia with her child and returned to Britain, seeking the safety and support of her family. She believed she was doing what any mother would do: protecting her child. But, instead of being seen as a survivor who needed protection, Lisa was branded a child abductor – a criminal under the law.

The legal system didn’t recognise the violent family home Lisa was escaping. Instead, she faced the terrifying prospect of being ordered back to the same country – and even the same street – as her abuser.

In Hague Convention cases, the default is to return the child unless the parent can meet the near-impossible threshold of proving “grave risk” or an “intolerable situation”.

Rape, abuse and coercive control are too often dismissed as insignificant and treated as someone else’s problem – not Britain’s, not the court’s.

Lisa collapsed in court, sobbing and struggling to breathe as the judgment was read. Her panic wasn’t unusual – it was the raw, human reaction to a system that prioritises procedure over protection.

The High Court accepted her ex-partner’s promises: he said he would drop the criminal charges, withdraw his custody claim, offer her rent-free accommodation, and provide maintenance so she could get back on her feet.

He lied. And the law did nothing to stop him.

Back in Australia, Lisa was arrested on arrival. She became entangled in both family and criminal proceedings, her immigration status uncertain, and her worst fear looming – losing her child for good.

There was no accountability for the judge who ordered her return. No consequence for the abuser who manipulated the legal system to regain control. Just another mother failed by a system that should have protected her.

And yet, sometimes the impossible is achieved. In one case detailed in my book, I represented Julia, a mother whose experience of abuse was so severe that the judge, Paul Bowen KC, recognised the link between domestic abuse and the real risk of a victim’s death – whether at the hands of the perpetrator or by suicide. It was a rare moment of clarity and courage in a legal system that too often looks the other way.

I had feared the worst after hearing a psychiatric expert who gave cautious evidence, suggesting Julia might have an adjustment disorder if the abuse was proven, while dismissing the possibility of post-traumatic stress.

The expert’s lack of a trauma-informed approach was, in my opinion, deeply concerning. Far too often, survivors are subjected to court-appointed experts who pathologise them, not to understand or support their trauma, but simply to prove that returning to their abuser’s country would cause harm. But the harm should be self-evident.

No mother abandons her home, possessions, job, friends and family – leaving with nothing but a passport and her child – unless she is utterly desperate.

And yet, judges continue to place faith in foreign legal systems to protect returning mothers and children, even when those very systems have already failed them.

The Hague Convention assumes all jurisdictions offer equal protection, but for survivors, legal safeguards vary wildly, and access is anything but guaranteed.

This treaty, written over 40 years ago, urgently needs rewriting – or countries should begin withdrawing from a framework that breaches international obligations to protect victims from domestic abuse.

The Convention was never built to handle the complexity of coercive control or the lived realities of survivors. It rests on the false assumption that both parents stand on equal footing, with equal intentions.

And while it claims to protect children, it too often delivers them – and their mothers – back into harm’s way.

Dr Charlotte Proudman is a barrister specialising in violence against women and girls and a senior research associate at Jesus College, Cambridge. Her book, He Said, She Said: Truth, Trauma and the Struggle for Justice in Family Court, is out on 1 May 2025 – read an extract from it here