When “Protection” Turns into Trauma
High-profile cases in Lithuania continue to raise an uncomfortable question: are child protection interventions always proportionate, and are those enforcing them properly vetted and prepared? It often takes just one video circulating on social media to split public opinion in two—some say “the child must be rescued,” others argue “the system is destroying families.”
These reactions are not baseless. One fact remains constant: the removal of a child, even when necessary, is a deeply traumatic experience for both the child and the parents. International organizations openly acknowledge that family separation leaves lasting psychological scars and obliges institutions to ensure that such measures are used only as a last resort—briefly, proportionately, and with minimal harm.
The Klaipėda Newborn Case: When a Decision Looks Like Force
In November 2025, a video from a Klaipėda hospital spread across Lithuania’s public space, showing a newborn being removed from its mother. Authorities explained that for an infant of such age, meeting physical and emotional needs is critical, and transfer to a safe environment occurs only when there are “absolutely no alternative ways” to ensure protection, or when agreement on other solutions cannot be reached—while still allowing parents to maintain contact.
Child Rights Ombudsperson Edita Žiobienė emphasized that removing a child and placing them with guardians is an extreme measure, with motives subject to judicial review. In urgent cases, however, a newborn may be removed without prior court authorization if a threat to health, life, or safety is identified. Days later, public broadcaster LRT reported that the baby was returned to the family. Yet the damage lingered: even when institutions are legally justified, a process that appears coercive can dramatically erode public trust.
The Krūčinskai Case: Children Returned, Fear Remains
The 2018 Krūčinskai family case in Kaunas became emblematic of how “procedure” alone can harm a family—even when children are eventually returned. According to LRT, the parents regained custody after complying with service requirements, but reported that frequent monitoring visits disrupted the children’s sense of security and intensified their fear of being taken away again.
This case shifted public debate beyond the binary of “legal versus illegal.” It raised a deeper question: can the very form of intervention turn a child protection system into a generator of trauma?
When an Executor’s Reputation Becomes the System’s Reputation
Public trust is further strained when the credibility of those enforcing decisions is called into question. In 2018, LRT reported that Kaunas child protection specialist Teodoras Ismailovas was suspended following a complaint over unethical conduct and the initiation of an internal investigation. Media coverage also cited his previous criminal record and raised concerns about his behavior and symbolism displayed publicly.
Later reports confirmed that the court rejected Ismailovas’ request to annul his criminal record—linked to VAT fraud—and that he received an official warning after the Krūčinskai child removal. This was not merely an isolated episode. When institutions allow individuals with questionable reputations to act “on behalf of the state” in family homes, society inevitably asks whether the system is capable of choosing who should be entrusted with such power.
The Vilčinskai Case: Courts, Procedures, and Warning Signals
The Vilčinskai family case offers another illustration of how prolonged institutional conflict fuels public mistrust. In 2024, LRT reported that the Kaunas Regional Court identified procedural violations in the child removal process, after which the children were returned to their parents.
In November 2025, Lithuania’s Supreme Court ruled that while the parents understood that taking children from foster care could constitute unlawful removal, the subsequent annulment of the custody decision and the return of the children eliminated the dangerousness of their actions. As a result, they were lawfully exempted from criminal liability.
These rulings do not suggest that all cases are the same. But they do send a clear signal: procedures must be flawless. Errors here cost more than legal credibility—they affect a child’s safety, family stability, and society’s trust in the state.
Why Do These Stories Provoke Such Anger?
Because they touch the most sensitive fundamentals: a child’s bond with parents, human dignity, and the limits of state power. When individuals feel powerless against “the system,” a deeply human response emerges—defensiveness, anger, hostility. Instead of a “welfare state,” the public perceives fear, polarization, and institutional alienation.
For children, the experience is often distilled into fear. UNICEF warns that family separation may inflict long-term psychological harm. Casey Family Programs emphasize that investigation, removal, and relocation processes themselves can be traumatic and must be weighed alongside formal risk assessments. Research consistently links placement instability within care systems to poorer behavioral and mental health outcomes.
What the Law Says—and What Changed in 2024–2025
A frequent public question is: how does the system allow unsuitable individuals to work with children? Lithuanian law establishes restrictions on working with minors, and recent years have seen tighter enforcement. The legislation defines conditions under which a person cannot work in the State Child Rights Protection and Adoption Service or its regional units, including active convictions for intentional crimes and failure to meet “impeccable reputation” standards.
As of November 1, 2024, anyone working with children must possess a “legal authorization to work with children” QR code confirming they have not been convicted of crimes restricting such work. Transitional deadlines and verification mechanisms are published by the Ministry of Social Security and Labour. These reforms are significant—but insufficient on their own. Trust is shaped not only by who works in the system, but by how they work.
Where Is the Human Factor?
Humanity in the system is not sentimentality. It is professional practice:
clear explanations to families about what is happening and why;
de-escalation instead of confrontation;
minimizing harmful contact during removals—especially with very young children;
meaningful supervision, internal oversight, and accountability;
transparency within the bounds of privacy, and swift institutional responses when concerns arise.
Without these elements, even legally sound decisions appear unjust to the public.
What to Do If You Suspect Abuse of Power
If you believe child protection specialists or other officials have acted inappropriately, formal channels exist. The State Child Rights Protection and Adoption Service has published complaint submission and review procedures. Complaints can also be submitted to the Child Rights Ombudsperson—by parents or by the child themselves—typically within a one-year timeframe.
Is This “Normal” for a Child Protection System?
A system that protects children is essential. But a system that cannot protect children without shattering family bonds, tolerates reputational gaps, or relies on coercive force ultimately cultivates what it fears most: public anger and hostility toward the state.
A welfare state does not begin with polished programs. It begins when, even in the most difficult situations, a child and their family are treated as human beings—not as a “case file.”
Author: Dalius Andriukaitis
Prepared for the news portal Lietuvos Valstybė