I still vividly remember the first case of sexual assault I undertook as a lawyer — three young children, aged 8, 10 and 11, were being abused by a 50-year-old man, who had introduced an element of sexual competition among them to escalate the level of abuse. My immediate reaction was: this man does not deserve to live.

Since then I have handled several other cases of children subjected to sexual violence — many younger than 12, that the new Ordinance aims to protect. One five-year-old needed intestinal surgery because of the brutality of the abuse; another needed vaginal reconstruction; yet another four-year-old could not speak for months — all suffered trauma, nightmares and flashbacks years after the abuse ended. Each case triggered the same angry response that most Indians now share. But visceral reactions are a poor guide to policy. Counter-intuitively, the severity of punishment does not serve as a deterrent. Our children need certain, rather than brutal, justice.

India has a wide impunity gap for child sexual assault cases — only 30 per cent of the few reported cases result in conviction. The problem is not that child-rapists are not being put to death but that they are not being reported and convicted in the first place.

This is especially true when children are acquainted with their abusers, which is in 95 per cent of all cases. These children face overwhelming pressure to recant. A few months ago, in a case of incest in Delhi, with tears flooding her eyes, a girl denied that her father sexually assaulted her. Her vocal reaction and visible fear belied her verbal testimony; but, acquitting her father, the court sent him home. Increasing the severity of punishment does this child no good.

In another case, witnessing her husband’s attack on their seven-year-old daughter, a mother immediately reported the crime but started to gently pressure the child to retract her complaint when she realised that her four children would now starve after the father’s arrest. Refusing to succumb to pressure, the child still testified against her father, but she may not have done so had she known her testimony might hang him to death.

Children also experience crippling guilt at sending familiar perpetrators to jail. In a Mumbai case, a man was sentenced to life for sexually assaulting his two young daughters. The elder daughter retracted under pressure from the paternal grandmother but the younger child persisted and testified. She still experiences guilt about sending her father to jail for life.

Even when children are eager to testify, convictions are elusive. In one Delhi case, an 11-year-old testified against her attacker only to see the case acquitted because of errors in DNA collection. Lack of investment in conclusive forensic evidence places the entire burden of proof on the slender shoulders of traumatised children. No amount of deterrent punishment can make up for this unfairness.

In increasing the severity of punishment, India seems to be putting the cart before the horse. Most cases, even when children testify, are acquitted due to incompetent investigation, inadequate prosecution, delayed trials, lack of empathetic adjudication and zero accountability for failures. Unless there is resource allocation for witness protection, dedicated investigative units, prosecutors and Courts, children remain vulnerable. The Delhi High Court (HC) has provided tangible child protection by allocating resources in the form of Vulnerable Witness Rooms, where children can testify fearlessly.

In a March hearing of a POCSO (Protection of Children from Sexual Offences) case, the Delhi HC overturned the acquittal of an accused rapist by a trial court, terming it “shockingly absurd” when the judge raised doubts on the minor victim’s statement and ignored the medical examination reports. The criminal justice system also needs accountability. In State versus Kishanbhai, a 2014 case of child rape and murder so poorly investigated and prosecuted that it resulted in an acquittal, the Supreme Court (SC) directed States to take disciplinary measures against erring police and prosecutors. In acquitting a case where a child has suffered brutal and prolonged sexual assault but could not be traced for trial, a Delhi judge noted that consistent systemic failure requires all authorities to conduct a “reality check” — assess reasons for failure and take steps to improve conviction rates. That reality check is still pending. States have made haste by introducing the death penalty to calm public outcry while ignoring the SC’s own directions.

The Ordinance seems a cosmetic quick-fix when evidence shows that some children may well have to wait 20 years for a verdict. India needs expedited trials with special courts that deliver justice on case-specific timelines.

After every widely-reported rape, the public demands blood and our politicians succumb. But whose blood is it? In a country with such a wide impunity gap, the blood thrown to the public might just be that of other innocent children. Cosmetic solutions are not only ineffective and counterproductive but dangerous because they soothe public anger, which should be directed towards real solutions such as allocation of resources to improve investigative, prosecutorial and judicial infrastructure, political will for accountability and evidence-based strategies. Our policymakers’ attention is rightly focused on the issue of child sexual assault. They must now put their money where their mouth is.

Michelle Mendonca is a Delhi-based advocate and guest faculty on child rights at judicial academies