In your report, you state that the violations of the right to education for child prisoners are not the result of entering prison, but the result of a “structural rupture” that begins much earlier. What exactly do you mean by “structural rupture”?
The situation we define as a “structural rupture” is not a process that begins with a child entering the justice system, but rather the result of the state’s failure to adequately fulfill its obligations within the education and child protection systems.
Most of the time, long before entering the justice system, child prisoners are pushed out of the formal education system due to social risks such as poverty-driven child labor, domestic abuse and neglect, discrimination arising from language, identity or ethnic origin differences, lack of local and public supportive mechanisms, and inadequately implemented protective and preventive measures. Both our experience and observations in the field and our monitoring work and interviews with lawyers indicated that this rupture is a determining factor in child delinquency. Judicial control measures applied during the trial phase in the child justice system, such as house arrest that is not specifically regulated for children, in effect sever a child’s connection with their school if they are on the verge of dropping out of formal education, thereby depriving them of their right to education.
We also see the depth of this rupture in the current child prisoner data published monthly by the Ministry of Justice’s General Directorate of Prisons and Detention Houses. According to statistics released in June 2026, out of a total of 4,673 children aged 12-18 in penal institutions, 272 are illiterate, 182 have not completed any school, and the educational status of 208 has not been recorded at all. This data, from the authorities themselves, shows that the most fundamental violation of the right to education begins long before prison. Moreover, the data itself points to a violation: literacy is taught in the first stage of compulsory formal education, in primary school. In other words, a child over the age of 12 being illiterate raises questions about both the quality of formal education and the effectiveness of educational measures implemented under child protection law. In either case, the outcome is the same: This data from the Ministry of Justice amounts to an admission that the Ministry of National Education and the Ministry of Family and Social Services have not fulfilled their respective obligations.
In Turkey, what does “formal education” actually mean for a child prisoner? Can a security-oriented penal regime coexist with the right to education?
In Turkey, child prisoners are held in two types of institutions according to their status: child education houses (5 in total) for convicted children and closed juvenile penitentiary institutions (9 in total) for those who are either on remand or have been transferred from education houses due to disciplinary reasons. Only one of these education houses is designated for girls; as a result, all detained girls are held in wards allocated for them within adult women’s prisons.
These distinctions are also significant in terms of the right to education: children in education houses (leaving aside the fact that many already fell out of education before entering the justice system) can benefit from all types of instruction, including formal education. Children in closed institutions, however, are only able to benefit from formal education to the extent permitted by “institutional discipline, order, and security” and “capacity and available resources”, and only through a new school model established within the walls of the closed institution as stipulated by the Cooperation Protocol between the Ministry of National Education and the Ministry of Justice, which calls for the opening of high school branches in closed institutions, the so-called multi-program justice high school in six campuses. This situation violates the constitutional principles of equality and continuity at the core of the right to education, as well as the obligation to “ensure the integration of those in need of special education into society”—meaning the state’s responsibility to take special measures for disadvantaged groups.
In our report, we assess the Ministry of Justice’s approach of opening schools within closed penal institutions as a significant risk. This approach carries the danger of normalizing incarceration as a new standard of education.
This is not just a spatial shift; it carries structural and legal risks regarding the essence of the right to education. First of all, moving from the education house model, where children can attend schools outside, to the closed in-institution education model, risks a rollback of hard-won rights.
Furthermore, associating the diploma of education provided within the prison with the institution may increase the risk of stigmatization after release and further hinder social reintegration.
Another problem relates to the nature of prison environments. Security priorities strictly limit peer interaction and social learning opportunities, which are fundamental elements of education. The inadequacy of physical conditions and the limited number of social activities exacerbate this. For example, as in the Sincan case, the lack of adequate infrastructure and near-zero social and cultural activities further undermine the quality of this model.
As a result, within this structure, education ceases to be an independent right and risks becoming part of the security regime.
The right to education is lost between institutions
When it comes to the right to education of child prisoners, the responsibilities of the Ministries of Justice, National Education, and Family and Social Services intersect. How does the lack of coordination between these institutions affect the right to education of children?
The lack of coordination between these three institutions effectively deprives child prisoners of the right to education and drags it into a grey area. The most basic contradiction emerges here: The Ministry of National Education defines education as a compulsory and continuous right, but when a child enters a juvenile penal institution, this right can be effectively suspended. So, while education is accepted as a fundamental right, it is rendered inaccessible due to security concerns. The insufficient engagement of the Ministry of Family and Social Services further deepens the disconnection between the child protection and justice systems. This creates gaps not only in education but also in access to social support mechanisms.
In addition, the inability of institutions to produce joint and transparent data makes the problem invisible. For example, TÜİK uses five-year age groups, the Justice Statistics use 12-14 and 15-17 age ranges, and the Directorate of Prisons and Detention Houses uses 12-18. To address these discrepancies, we submitted a request on September 23, 2025, seeking disaggregated data on the distribution of child prisoners in institutions and their access to formal education. However, in the reply given on October 14, 2025, it was stated that the requested information could not be provided because it was regulated under internal institutional procedures. The fact that most parliamentary questions remain unanswered further reinforces this darkness; this data void undermines both policymaking and oversight.
In the end, this lack of coordination creates a vicious cycle that makes it impossible for the child to access education while deprived of liberty and to reintegrate into the education system upon release.
Invisible barriers to accessing the right to education
One of the striking findings in your focus group interviews with lawyers was: “Children don’t even know that they can go to school.” What does this tell us about children’s access to their right to education?
This finding shows that the justice system deprives children not only of their freedom, but also of their right to education. It points to a few fundamental realities. The right to education, which should actually be guaranteed by the state ex officio, in practice becomes subject to the child’s own initiative. Expecting such a request from a child who has newly entered the institution and does not know their rights shows the state’s positive obligation is not being met.
Moreover, despite the obligation to inform, the fact that children are unaware of these rights reveals that education has become invisible. This situation turns the child from the subject of education into a passive object within the system.
Finally, the few children who can exercise this right are faced with slow bureaucratic processes. The slowness of these processes causes children to drop out of education and leads to serious despair.
Compounded discrimination against girls
Your report reveals that children held in adult prisons—especially girls held in women’s prisons due to their small number—face severe violations of rights. How should this situation be evaluated in terms of the right to education?
We should interpret the situation faced by children held in adult prisons, especially girls, as compounded discrimination in terms of the “right to education.” First, the failure to establish institutions specifically for girls due to their smaller numbers is a serious structural problem. We can evaluate this situation in a few fundamental dimensions in the context of the right to education.
First, there is structural invisibility and spatial inadequacy. While closed institutions specifically for children in Turkey are mostly for boys, girls are held in sections within adult women’s prisons. A similar inequality exists in education houses: while there is only one for girls, boys have access to greater capacity. This situation already weakens the principle of a child-centered educational environment from the outset.
Girls who are forced to stay with adults in closed institutions face severe limitations in accessing classrooms, workshops, sports areas, and comprehensive pedagogical programs tailored to them.
Lastly, access to social and developmental activities is also highly limited. Access to sports, libraries, and similar activities is already restricted; girls forced to stay with adults have even less access to these facilities. This contradicts the reality that education is not only academic, but also a social process.
You propose a model based on education houses rather than closed penal institutions. Why should this model be preferred in terms of protecting the right to education of children?
This recommendation is essentially about implementing existing child protection laws and adhering to education houses—as already defined as the main institution in the regulations—where children can continue their formal education. The objective is to prevent closed institutions from becoming the default model and to stop the so-called “multi-program justice high school,” whose place in the education system is undefined, from taking root via independent, incremental changes in protocols and laws.
The restriction of children’s liberty should be an absolute last resort, and the distinction between detained and convicted children should be abolished concerning the right to education. Education should be provided by the state ex officio, not based on the child’s request. In addition, access to formal education outside prison should become the basic standard for children.
At the institutional level, it seems impossible for this transformation to take place without genuine coordination among the three ministries (Justice, National Education, and Family and Social Services). As the current situation stands, both the lack of data and fragmented responsibilities render the right to education of the child invisible.
In the long term, the most critical issue is that education should take place within society, not inside prisons. For this reason, the education house model should not only be seen as a technical regulation, but as a structural choice determining the direction of the child justice system.