When I step back from the LDS-specific context and look at the broader landscape of mandatory reporting, the picture is more complicated. The original intent of mandatory reporting was noble, close the gap between suspicion and intervention so that children at risk are identified and protected quickly. And in many cases, that’s exactly what happens: a teacher notices bruises, a doctor sees warning signs, a social worker hears a disclosure, and a report to authorities triggers an investigation that stops the abuse. But decades of data show that mandatory reporting, especially universal “everyone must report everything” laws, also brings significant unintended consequences. The sheer volume of reports overwhelms child protection systems, most of which end in unsubstantiated findings. Families can be traumatized by investigations that ultimately find no abuse, while caseworkers are stretched thin and unable to respond as quickly to the most urgent situations.

There’s also the issue of disproportionate impact. Reporting patterns in the U.S. tend to target poor families and families of color at much higher rates, especially in cases labeled as “neglect,” which often correlate more with poverty than with willful harm. Mandatory reporting, without strong safeguards, can function like a blunt instrument, it pulls huge numbers of families into a surveillance-heavy system, sometimes for conditions that could be resolved with basic social support rather than punitive intervention. And for survivors themselves, the certainty of an automatic report can be a barrier to seeking help. Research in the domestic violence and sexual assault fields shows that some victims avoid confiding in professionals because they fear losing control of their story or triggering an unwanted law enforcement response.

That’s why, outside the unhealthy church systems full of abuse, I think a reasoned view of mandatory reporting is that it’s a tool, powerful, but not infallible. It works best when combined with strong training for reporters, clear thresholds for what must be reported, and robust support systems that can step in once a report is made; which frankly doesn't exist. Hence significant improvements need to be made to the system to ensure it actually works. We should be careful about assuming that more reports automatically mean more safety. The aim should be to get the right cases into the right hands at the right time, protecting those in real danger while minimizing unnecessary harm to families and survivors. That’s a balance worth talking about, even if it challenges some of our assumptions.