National Centre for Domestic Violence Logo

Please note that Internet Explorer is no longer a supported browser so we cannot guarantee the integrity of our website when using it. Please use an alternate browser like Edge or Chrome.

Access ASSIST Online Injunction Database

Click here to leave training feedback

-or-

Make a Referral Using the Form Below:









    YesNo


    YesNo
    *Fields required. By submitting a referral you agree to receive updates on the progress of your referral, as outlined in our Privacy Policy.

    Why Are Protective Orders Temporary, When the Impact of Abuse Is Lifelong?

    Reading Time: 2 minutes

    Why Are Protective Orders Temporary, When the Impact of Abuse Is Lifelong?

    emblem

    NCDV Training & Development Manager, Sally Herzog, puts forward the case for all protective orders to be long-lasting, to assist with the long-term recovery of survivors.

    This blog is written from my perspective as a survivor, and as someone who has worked extensively with survivors and professionals in the domestic abuse sector. In imagining a world where protective orders last indefinitely, it does not reflect the strategic position of NCDV.

    Every day, survivors of domestic abuse navigate a world reshaped by fear, control, and trauma. When they come forward, often after years of silence, they are offered protection through the courts. A protective order is one of the most immediate legal tools we have to interrupt abuse, and NCDV have been helping people obtain them for over 20 years. But here’s the problem: most of these orders are time-limited.

    Six months. One year. Two, if you’re lucky.

    Then they expire.

    But the trauma? The fear? The impact on daily life, relationships, work, parenting, and health? That doesn’t expire.

    The Reality for Survivors

    For many survivors, leaving the abuser doesn’t mean the abuse stops. It simply changes form – harassment, stalking, legal manipulation, or attempts to control through shared parenting arrangements. The abuser may no longer have a key to the house, but they often still find ways to enter the survivor’s life.

    Even when physical violence ends, the psychological footprint remains. Survivors carry hypervigilance, nightmares, trust issues, and fear long after the bruises fade. These effects can last a lifetime.

    What Protective Orders Do?

    Protective orders, whether they’re Non-Molestation Orders, Restraining Orders, or the newer Domestic Abuse Protection Orders (DAPOs), are designed to provide safety and prevent further harm. They set clear legal boundaries. Breaching them is a criminal offence. They work- but only while they’re in place.

    So why do we let them lapse?

    Why Orders are Time-limited?

    There are practical reasons for time-limited orders, which carry legal weight.

    Resource constraints: Courts are busy. Monitoring long-term or indefinite orders takes time and resources.

    Legal tradition: The justice system, founded on managing risk, often prefers orders that can be reviewed and renewed, based on current circumstances

    Balance of rights: Courts are reluctant to impose lifelong restrictions on someone unless there is an ongoing threat.

    But here’s the issue: in many cases, the very reason a survivor needs protection is because the abuser has shown a pattern of control and harm that doesn’t stop. The burden often falls on survivors to prove they still need protecting, even after everything they’ve been through.

    What If We Flipped the Script?

    Imagine a world where instead of placing the onus on survivors to extend protection, what if long-term – or even life-long – protective orders were the norm?

    What if the default assumption was that someone who has been abusive will not be permitted contact, unless they can show that it’s safe?

    What if the justice system acknowledged that the impact of abuse doesn’t follow a neat timeline?

    This wouldn’t mean punishing people forever without cause, it would mean prioritising the safety and dignity of those who’ve already suffered.

    Survivors Deserve Better.

    The end of a court case is not necessarily the end of the story. In fact, it’s rarely the end. It’s the beginning of rebuilding.

    Time-limited protective orders can be a vital first step. But they shouldn’t be the last. Survivors deserve a system that supports the long arc of recovery, and commits to walking with them for the duration.

    Sally Herzog, NCDV

    Share This Article

    Reading Time: 2 minutes
    Reading Time: 3 minutes
    Reading Time: 3 minutes

    By Fiona Bawden, Times Online (8th May 2007)

    “Steve Connor, a student at City Law School, is a man on a mission. Six years ago he was a fairly directionless 27-year-old. Today, as well as taking the Bar Vocational Course, he is chairman of the National Centre for Domestic Violence, a ground-breaking organisation that he dragged into existence after a friend could not get legal help to protect her from an abusive partner.

    Connor’s route to the Bar has been circuitous. In 2001 he returned from a year in Australia (he says that he would not dignify describing it as a gap year), and took a job as a process server in South London. The job (“I just saw it advertised in the paper”) was not quite as dull as it sounds. On one occasion he was threatened with a machete, on another, he was nearly stabbed by a man he had arranged to meet on Clapham Common to serve with a non-molestation order: “He’d seemed really friendly on the phone…”

    The turning point in his life came when a friend, who was being abused by her partner, turned to him for support. Connor went with her to the police. She did not want to press criminal charges so the police suggested that she visit a solicitor to take out a civil injunction. “We must have seen 12 solicitors in a morning. We just went from one to the next to the next to the next. Everyone was very eager to help until we sat down to fill in the forms for the legal aid means test,” he says. The woman, who had a small child, did not qualify for public funding. But, Connor says, her financial situation as it appeared on paper did not bear any relation to her financial situation in reality. “She had a part-time job and she and her partner owned their home. Yet she didn’t have any money. Her boyfriend was very controlling and controlled all the money; he kept the chequebooks and didn’t let her have access to the bank account.”

    The injustice of the situation got under Connor’s skin. “I just couldn’t believe that there was no help available to people who did not qualify for public funds but could not afford to pay.

    I just kept feeling that this must be able to be sorted if only someone would address it.”That “someone” turned out to be him.

    In 2002, thanks entirely to Connor’s doggedness, the London Centre for Domestic Violence was formed. It started out with him and a friend, but is now a national organisation, covering 27 counties, and has helped approximately 10,000 victims last year to take out injunctions against their partners.

    NCDV now has nine full-time staff, 12 permanent volunteers and has trained over 5000 law and other students as McKenzie Friends to accompany unrepresented victims into court. We have also trained over 8000 police officers in civil remedies available regarding domestic violence. The National Centre for Domestic Violence (NCDV) has branches in London, Guildford and Manchester and is on track to have branches in 16 areas within the next two years.

    NCDV specialises exclusively in domestic violence work and could be characterised as a cross between McDonald’s and Claims Direct. The high degree of specialisation means that its processes are streamlined: clients can be seen quickly and the work is done speedily and cheaply. “Sometimes, we will have one of our trained McKenzie Friends at a court doing 10 applications in one day,” Connor says.

    Clients are not charged for the service. NCDV staff take an initial statement: clients who qualify for legal aid are referred to a local firm; those that don’t get free help from the centre itself. It runs on a shoestring, heavily reliant on volunteers and capping staff salaries at £18,000 a year.

    Steve expects to qualify as a barrister this summer and hopes that having a formal legal qualification will give the centre added clout. “We are already acknowledged as experts and consulted at a high level, so I thought it would be helpful if I could back that up by being able to say I’m a barrister,” he says. He is just about to complete a one-year full-time BVC course at the City Law School (formerly the Inns of Court Law School) and, all being well, should be called to the Bar in July. Although Connor sees his long-term future as a barrister, he says that he has no immediate plans to practise. “I want to get NCDV running on a fully national level. Then I may take a step back and have a career at the Bar.”