Sometimes there really is nothing to fear except fear itself. Use fear to assess risk, and then dispense with it, and you’ll find you remove limits in your life. Then you’ll surprise yourself with what you can achieve.

My parents showed me that men and women are equally capable of being nurturing and loving, and standing up for what is right.

A University of Newcastle arts degree gave me the skills I needed to write about the appalling abuses of power that led to crimes against children.

I learnt how to research a subject, critically assess material and make an argument. I learnt to value excellence. And I learnt something else that was critical to handling the fear that can rise up when you speak against injustice – that facts, evidence and the truth are like armour against a powerful adversary.

Next week Hunter man, Graham Rundle, will give evidence about appalling abuse at a Salvation Army children’s home in the 1960s.

He was seven when he was stripped of his name and reduced to a number – 44.

He was told nobody wanted him, and he should be grateful that someone was prepared to put a roof over his head; food in his mouth.

He was physically and sexually abused, emotionally deprived, and neglected in a place that was isolated from the community.

It was where the care of human lives was outsourced by the state to an organisation with an impeccable reputation, but which ran an institution where crimes were committed and children’s lives were devastated.

Graham is the first witness at the 33rd public hearing of the Royal Commission into Institutional Responses to Child Sexual Abuse.

The overwhelming message from the royal commission is that in any situation where children are involved, their protection from physical, sexual and emotional harm has to be the overriding consideration.

They are vulnerable. They lack power.

People often ask me how did this national tragedy happen – how were children physically, sexually and emotionally degraded and abandoned for so long?

Because other considerations came first. The reputation of the organisation, the status of the individuals involved, money, job security, and ambition. And when credible allegations were raised, those other considerations crowded out the truth.

My parents, and the University of Newcastle, did a good job of preparing me for what was required to write about a dark subject that has challenged our views about many institutions, and even our justice system.

Fear and empathy were my companions, and I had to balance and deal with each.

I’m proud to accept this honorary doctorate because it is the University of Newcastle saying it values work that recognises we have rights in this most fortunate of countries, but as individuals we also have responsibilities, the greatest of which is to ensure the rights of the most vulnerable.

Which is why I can’t accept this honour without voicing my strong objection to the university signing a contract with Transfield Services to manage its facilities for the next five years.

While children and young people are living in circumstances of intentional deprivation, by government decree, in detention centres at Manus Island and Nauru managed by Transfield, it should not be business as usual.

Graham Rundle is giving evidence to show what can happen when children’s lives are reduced to numbers, where they’re isolated, and their welfare is outsourced to the point where no one need take responsibility.

You are graduating today because you’ve added hard work to the good fortune of being in this country at this time in history.

It’s my hope, and my challenge to you, to push yourselves a little, face fears when they appear, back yourselves and realise so many of the limits in our lives are self-imposed.

And once you realise that, look around, walk in another’s shoes, and you might just surprise yourself.

This is an edited version of Joanne McCarthy’s  address  to graduates at the University of Newcastle on Friday, after she was awarded an honorary doctorate