After Apratim: Questions That Must Not Die

Ishayat Shariar Apratim’s incident drives us to ask a critical question: What will we learn from his death? Because justice deals with what has already happened. Prevention asks us what we can do before another child becomes a victim.

Whenever a child is killed, society naturally looks toward the family with multiple questions, like could the parents have done something differently? Yet if prevention is truly the goal, the question cannot stop at what a family could have done differently. We must also examine the wider environment in which children move, play and grow. Some of these questions may help us understand the circumstances. But they can also unintentionally place the burden of preventing violence almost entirely on parents. 

Parents certainly have an important role in teaching children about personal safety. Children should learn not to follow strangers into isolated places, how to seek help, how to contact trusted adults and what to do when they sense danger. But parents cannot create a completely risk-free world around their children. A child can follow reasonable precautions and still encounter violence. That is why child safety cannot remain a private family responsibility. It is also a responsibility shared by schools, communities, law enforcement and society. 

The World Health Organization (WHO) describes violence against children as a multifaceted problem, with risk factors operating at individual, relationship, community and societal levels. Importantly, WHO also notes that violence against children can be prevented. That changes everything. Instead of asking only, “How could this child have been protected?”, we should also ask: “How can the environment around children be made safer?”
Psychologist Albert Bandura's work on moral disengagement offers one important concept. Human beings generally possess moral standards that can restrain harmful behaviour. But under certain circumstances, people can psychologically distance themselves from those standards and justify behaviour they would otherwise recognise as wrong. 

The idea is not that someone “loses their morality.” Rather, psychological mechanisms can make harmful actions easier to rationalise, minimise or emotionally distance oneself from. This raises a deeply uncomfortable question in cases involving violence: What happens when another human stops being seen as a person and becomes merely an obstacle to getting what we want? The concept gives society something important to examine: how empathy, responsibility and respect for human life are developed and how they can break down.

We often assume that violent behaviour emerges from an isolated decision; however, research on violence consistently points to multiple interacting influences rather than one simple cause. WHO identifies factors ranging from exposure to violence and harmful peer relationships to weak social cohesion, unsafe environments and social norms that normalise aggression. This is particularly important when young people are involved. If we want to reduce violence, telling young people simply, “Do not be violent,” is not enough. They need opportunities to develop emotional regulation, empathy, conflict-resolution skills and the ability to recognise consequences. They also need adults who model these behaviours. A child who repeatedly sees aggression treated as entertainment, strength or an acceptable way of solving conflict receives a very different social lesson from one who grows up seeing disagreement handled through communication and accountability. That is why prevention has to begin long before a criminal case reaches a courtroom.

There is another lesson here for parents. After a tragedy, our instinct is often to make children's worlds smaller. Don't go there. Don't talk to strangers. Don't go out alone. Don't carry valuable things. Don't trust people. These warnings have their place. But children cannot grow up safely if fear becomes their only safety strategy. They need something more useful: judgment. Children should be taught how to recognise suspicious situations, how to identify an unsafe request, when to leave a place, whom to call and how to ask for help without worrying that they will get into trouble. Parents can practise these situations with children. Schools can teach age-appropriate safety and life skills. Communities can identify isolated or poorly monitored areas. And children can be taught that asking for help is not a weakness. The objective is not to raise frightened children. It is to raise conscious children who know how to respond when something feels wrong.

We need to understand that prevention cannot depend on an individual. WHO's INSPIRE framework shows us that: A parent cannot provide street lighting. A teacher cannot investigate a disappearance. A police officer cannot replace a child's family. A community cannot substitute for the justice system. Everyone has a role to play.  

Apratim's death has understandably produced grief and anger. But public anger eventually fades. Headlines disappear. Social media posts move down our feeds. People return to their routines. For Apratim's parents, there is no return to ordinary life. That is why our response cannot end with outrage. Justice matters. Accountability matters. A thorough investigation matters. But prevention matters too. What can parents teach differently? What can schools teach differently? What can communities notice earlier? What can authorities improve? And what kind of behaviour have we, as a society, become too accustomed to accepting? Prevention is necessary for every child who comes after him.

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The writer is a journalist