By Aneeta Prem MBE
30 April 2026
Some lies are easy to spot. Others arrive dressed as family loyalty, culture, tradition, privacy, resilience or a brave face.
National Honesty Day gives me a reason to ask a harder question than whether people value truth in principle: what happens when the truth is visible and everyone around it chooses softer words?
A child is not being protected when adults arrange a marriage. A girl is not being prepared when she is subjected to FGM. A survivor is not bringing shame when she speaks. A patient is not weak because she says the pain is unbearable.
The lie is not always what is said. Sometimes it is the language used to make harm sound smaller.
When softer words become cover
“Family matter”, “tradition”, “private issue”, “community concern”, “coping”, “fine”. None of those words is inherently dishonest. In the wrong situation, however, they can help adults avoid what is in front of them.
Fear becomes obedience. Coercion becomes family pressure. A safeguarding concern becomes cultural sensitivity. A person who has learnt to hide severe pain is described as coping well.
The important question is not whether the language sounds polite. It is whether it helps us understand what is actually happening.
Abuse should not be made smaller by language
Forced marriage is a criminal offence across the UK, although the legislation differs by jurisdiction. In England and Wales, conduct intended to cause a child under 18 to marry can be an offence even where violence, threats or another form of coercion are not proved.
FGM is a criminal offence and, when it involves a child, a safeguarding matter and child abuse.
Those legal boundaries matter because adults sometimes reach for cultural explanations at exactly the moment a child needs protection.
I use the term Dishonour Abuse in my own campaigning because the responsibility belongs with the person using coercion, threats or violence. A child does not bring shame on a family by asking for help.
We often protect the wrong feelings
A child may be told that speaking will damage the family. A survivor may be warned that disclosure will bring disgrace. A professional may worry about causing offence. Each of those pressures can shift attention away from the person who is frightened or being harmed.
Good safeguarding requires a different order of priorities. It asks first what the behaviour is, what the risk is and what the person needs to be safe.
That does not mean treating every family or community with suspicion. It means refusing to let discomfort prevent an honest assessment of evidence.
Professional honesty has consequences
A teacher may notice fear around a family trip. A nurse may hear something that does not sound right. A doctor may see signs that need further enquiry. A safeguarding lead may receive a disclosure that is immediately withdrawn.
These are not situations in which professionals need to know the whole story before they act. They need to record what they have seen or heard, follow the appropriate safeguarding route and avoid steps that could increase danger.
For FGM, the law in England and Wales is specific. Regulated health and social-care professionals and teachers must report known cases of FGM in under-18s to the police. Suspected risk still requires safeguarding action, but the mandatory reporting duty itself applies to known cases identified in the course of professional work.
Precision matters. It protects children better than either panic or vagueness.
Pain teaches people to hide too
This is not only about abuse. People living with invisible pain can become remarkably good at looking well.
Trigeminal neuralgia is one example. The NHS describes sudden, severe facial pain that can be sharp, shooting or electric-shock-like. For some people, eating, speaking, brushing teeth, touching the face or cold air can trigger attacks.
Between attacks a person may look entirely ordinary. That gap between appearance and experience can make honesty exhausting. Explaining pain repeatedly, especially after being doubted, is work in itself.
“I am not fine” should not require a performance before it is believed.
Why people do not always tell us more
Adults often ask why somebody did not speak earlier, disclose more clearly or keep asking for help.
I think the more useful question is what happened when they tried.
Was the child able to speak without a relative present? Was the survivor believed? Did the professional know what to do next? Did the patient learn that describing the full severity of pain changed anything?
Silence is sometimes fear. Sometimes it is loyalty. Sometimes it is exhaustion. Sometimes it is the result of having learnt that telling the truth carries a cost.
What honesty looks like in practice
Honesty is not dramatic language. It is accurate language.
It is a teacher writing down the concern rather than explaining it away. It is a clinician being clear about what is known and what is uncertain. It is a friend hearing a disclosure without immediately trying to make it less uncomfortable. It is a patient saying that the pain has changed their life.
And it is being willing to correct ourselves when the evidence does not support the stronger claim.
Final word
National Honesty Day does not need another slogan.
What matters is whether we can look at harm, fear or pain and describe it accurately enough to take responsibility for what comes next.
Truth should make the person at risk easier to see, not the situation easier for everyone else to tolerate.
About the author
Aneeta Prem MBE is a British author, human-rights campaigner and co-founder of Freedom Charity with Lord Toby Harris. She is Chief Executive of Trigeminal Neuralgia Association UK. Her work spans safeguarding, forced marriage, FGM, Dishonour Abuse, patient voice and invisible pain.
Sources
GOV.UK: Forced marriage guidance
CPS: Female genital mutilation
GOV.UK: Mandatory reporting of FGM