While many companies offer training programs for their employees, it also appears that the “responsibility for employability” has gradually shifted to the workers themselves, who are now expected to take greater control of their careers. “In the past, the boss was seen as responsible for the employee’s development—and even their personal fulfillment—sometimes even beyond the workplace,” notes Michel Ajzen. “But over time, this responsibility for employability has been diluted. ” This trend has been reinforced by new “career scripts,” which are heavily based on mobility. “When I ask students how many employers they think they’ll have in their lifetime, the average answer is six,” the professor continues. “This means that even before entering the workforce, they already have the idea that they’ll move from one employer to another, which can lead them to feel ‘responsible’ for their own careers and thus potentially to pursue training on their own initiative.” 

Getting an education, sure, but in what? And how? As Michel Ajzen explains, this choice depends largely on the “career tactics” adopted by workers. “Depending on their stage of life, they may adopt tactics that are more employment-oriented, with the goal of quickly securing a job to make ends meet,” he explains.

Furthermore, training periods are often seen by workers as a breather: an opportunity to step back and “lift their heads up from the handlebars” in what is often a high-pressure workday. This “break” is now governed by various policies. For example, the law of October 3, 2022, guarantees private-sector employees an individual right to training equivalent to 5 days per year for full-time workers. This training may be organized by the employer or left to the employees’ discretion (subject to the employer’s oversight). “However, some companies are not required to guarantee this right to their employees. This is particularly the case for companies with fewer than ten employees,” explains Charlotte Lambert, an associate professor and specialist in labor law. “In labor law, there are also collective bargaining agreements that supplement the law on a sector-by-sector basis and may provide for additional days of training.” 

When an employee wishes to pursue more extensive training—for example, a university certificate program that typically lasts more than five days per year—they can also take advantage of other programs that allow them to maintain all or part of their pay. “Paid educational leave, or CEP—which falls under regional jurisdiction—allows employees to take a recognized training course of at least 32 hours, including initial training,” explains Charlotte Lambert. “The employee retains their pay, while the employer is compensated by the ONEM.” 

The other option is “training-related” time credit: this regional program, which exists only in the private sector, allows employees to temporarily reduce or suspend their working hours without affecting the validity of their contract. In this case, the employee receives compensation directly from the ONEM, subject to certain age and seniority requirements. Time credit is also limited to a period of 36 months. “These various programs are not necessarily well known to the public,” comments Charlotte Lambert, “which also explains why many people are discouraged from pursuing training, particularly out of fear of losing their job or having to reduce their working hours and, consequently, their pay.” Furthermore, they are only available to workers with relatively stable employment status (permanent contracts, long-term fixed-term contracts, etc.). “Specific but similar mechanisms exist in the public sector. For the self-employed, however, taking paid leave or using time credits is not an option. They must therefore bear the indirect cost of their training themselves,” the labor law specialist adds. 

Given the need for worker training, universities naturally have a role to play. The “Paysage” decree of November 7, 2013, stipulates that they are authorized to organize continuing education programs accredited by ARES (Academy of Research and Higher Education). “Under the terms of the decree, continuing education does not refer to bachelor’s or master’s degrees, but rather to certificates,” explains Charlotte Lambert. Thus, to avoid any misunderstanding, students should be aware that earning a university certificate is not the same as earning an academic degree and therefore does not confer the same advantages in the job market. 

On the other hand, there is indeed the possibility for working professionals to earn a bachelor’s or master’s degree through part-time study, as is the case at the UNamur School of Law. “The unique feature of a bachelor’s degree—and ideally a master’s degree—is that it represents a true fresh start,” emphasizes Mathieu Rolain, academic coordinator of this program and researcher at the Vulnerabilities & Societies (V&S) Center at the Transitions Institute. “Often, it’s a complete career change and sometimes even the fulfillment of a dream: some are 50 years old and are about to begin their bar exam preparation…”. In Block 1 of the Faculty of Law’s part-time program, there are about 50 to 60 enrolled students each year: 10 to 15 of them will graduate in Block 3. “These students are extremely supportive of one another; they share their notes and help each other out when one of them is struggling,” observes the coordinator. 

In the same vein, UNamur is committed to tailoring its programs as best as possible to this group. “Many have family responsibilities and sometimes live far from Namur,” continues Mathieu Rolain. “All of our classes are therefore recorded and posted online. We also give them access to staff parking lots and notify them of exam dates well in advance… We try to show them that we support them and understand them. ” Because for these adults with busy professional and personal lives, (re)starting university studies “in evening classes” requires extraordinary discipline and determination, as well as the unconditional support of those around them. “I really admire them a lot,” enthuses Mathieu Rolain. “To me, they’re superheroes. We’ve had medical specialists who came in after their workday, single parents… They’re very unconventional individuals with brilliant backgrounds. They’re also a very demanding group who are always watching your every move—which, for us teachers, is incredibly stimulating.” Because by opening its doors to an experienced audience, the academic world, too, continues to learn. 

Since the 1980s, the University of Namur has distinguished itself through its expertise in continuing education for teachers, covering both didactic and psychopedagogical aspects. 

“It was the Faculty of Philosophy and Letters that initially launched this initiative to offer what were then called ‘refresher courses’ to French teachers,” says Sandrine Biémar, coordinator of the Center for Continuing Education for Teachers at the Faculty of Education and Training Sciences (FaSEF), a professor, and a member of the Institute for Research in Didactics and Education (IRDENa). “ Subsequently, more general training courses on psychopedagogical aspects followed: these were initially organized by the Department of Education and Technology, which has since become FaSEF. Similarly, in the 1990s, the Faculty of Sciences and the Faculty of Economics developed their own centers for continuing teacher education.” These four centers for continuing teacher education are now united under the “Salle des Pros.” 

While the decree of June 17, 2021 (Book 6 of the Education Code) formalizes the rights and duties of teaching staff regarding continuing education, this is by no means a new concept for the profession. 

“The profession is so complex and subject to so many changes—particularly in curricula and teaching methods—that it is important for teachers to view their career as a continuous process,” insists Sandrine Biémar. “That is why, starting with initial training, we inform students about these opportunities for continuing education.” 

The goal is to train “reflective practitioners” capable of questioning their own practices in order to refine and adapt them over time.

 “We try to bridge the gap between the world of research and the world of practice: so that we can inform teachers about new studies, but they can also inform us about what’s happening in the field,” the coordinator continues. “The Salle des Pros serves as this space that opens us up to the world.”

Supervised by Professor Géraldine Mathieu, a specialist in juvenile and family law and co-director of the Vulnerabilities & Societies Center, the UNamur research team involved in the CAPACITI project consists of Manon Brulard, a researcher in the Faculty of Law, and two student researchers, Lisa Salmon and Donaciene Quoirin. Together, they are exploring a specific question: How can a child truly participate in decisions that affect them when their family is breaking apart? “The effects of parental separations on children are still insufficiently documented from the perspective of their rights,” explains Manon Brulard.

To gather the children’s perspectives, the team first attempted individual and group interviews. They ran into a telling obstacle: parental consent. Without parental consent, they had no access to the children, even when the children themselves were eager to participate. “This really raised questions, because we’re conducting research on children’s participation and yet we find ourselves blocked by the goodwill of adults,” summarizes Manon Brulard. “This obstacle illustrates a major dilemma: how can we ensure that children’s rights are effectively upheld in a context where their lack of legal capacity prevents them from exercising those rights independently?” adds Géraldine Mathieu.

The team was nevertheless able to meet with about twenty children through interviews. They then rethought their approach and developed educational activities conducted directly in classrooms with children aged 8 to 12, with a twofold goal: to inform them about their rights and to provide them with a space to express themselves. At the same time, Manon Brulard met with child welfare professionals (judges, psychologists, mediators, and lawyers) to examine their practices and identify their needs.

One of the most striking findings is also one of the simplest: children’s rights are not widely known. “How can a child exercise and defend rights they don’t even know exist?” asks Manon Brulard. A survey of nearly 800 students preparing for careers in child-related fields confirms this in a troubling way: 40% of them had never heard of the United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child, and rated their knowledge of these rights at 4 out of 10—the same score they gave to the importance placed on these rights in their training. “These students are the professionals of tomorrow. If they themselves aren’t properly trained, how can we guarantee children’s rights in the field?” the researcher asks.

But lack of knowledge is not the only obstacle. Fieldwork reveals deeper tensions. The first is almost paradoxical: the desire to protect a child can end up silencing them. “We want to shield them from parental conflict. But in reality, they’re already at the heart of that conflict at home,” observes Manon Brulard. Protecting them isn’t enough; we must also listen to them. Added to this is a power dynamic between adults and children that remains very pronounced. “There’s a very hierarchical relationship in which the child must comply with decisions without being consulted beforehand,” notes the researcher. 

Professionals, for their part, often feel that they are listening, but children do not experience it that way. They generally receive no feedback on what they express and do not even know if their words are actually being taken into account.

Finally, children themselves censor what they say out of fear of hurting their parents. “They start thinking about the consequences of their words at a very early age. They don’t want to cause harm, so they stay silent. We’ve observed this fear in every classroom,” insists Manon Brulard.

These findings inform the design of practical tools. At UNamur, within the TRANSITIONS Institute, the research team is, for example, developing a board game inspired by Monopoly and Trivial Pursuit, “where the goal isn’t to win, but to speak out about one’s rights,” explains Lisa Salmon, who played a major role in its design. The research team is also creating an interactive workbook that combines games, word searches, and practical resources to help children continue reflecting on the topics covered in the workshops at home. 

Each project partner is currently developing its own research tools, with the goal of eventually co-creating an artistic work, a board game, a serious game, and interactive stories. Legal fact sheets, primarily intended for children, will also be posted online. Training sessions, e-learning modules for childcare professionals, and a white paper with recommendations will round out this collection. The white paper will also be aimed at children and policymakers, with the goal of transforming the research findings into concrete changes. All of these resources will be brought together within a cross-border center of expertise, the specific form of which has yet to be defined.

The CAPACITI research project (Children’s Participation, Space, and Power to Act in Promoting Their Rights) brings together 8 funding partners and 19 methodological partners active in Belgium, France, Germany, and Luxembourg. It is funded under the Interreg Greater Region program. Its final results and the tools developed will be released starting in February 2028.

While domestic violence is becoming an increasingly prominent topic in public discourse, this does not mean that it is fully understood. On the contrary. It was this observation that led to the creation of the biennial conference of the Association Famille & Droit, co-chaired by Professor Géraldine Mathieu and Professor Yves-Henri Leleu, which brings together family law professors from French-speaking universities in Belgium. Organized with the support of the “Children’s Rights” Unit at the Vulnerabilities & Societies (V&S) Center at UNamur and the SMAJ (Marche Service for Assistance to Litigants), it brought together 230 researchers, judges, lawyers, psychologists, and practitioners united by a shared conviction: to better understand a complex phenomenon in order to respond to it more effectively. This collective reflection led to the publication of the anthology *Intrafamilial Violence: Understanding, Identifying, and Taking Action: An Interdisciplinary and Systemic Approach*, published by Larcier-Intersentia and edited by Professor Géraldine Mathieu.

“There are topics that a society can never discuss too much, as long as it continues to learn and question itself,” says Géraldine Mathieu. One of the central themes of the conference and the book is precisely the call to “have the courage to be nuanced—not to downplay violence, but to better understand situations and develop more appropriate responses.”

Understand, name, act: these three verbs structure the book just as they structured the conference. Three verbs that, according to the professor, “emerged naturally,” as they reflect both an ethical and an intellectual imperative in the face of realities that “defy simplistic explanations.”

One of the book’s major contributions is that it places the concept of coercive control at the heart of its analysis. “It invites us to shift our perspective,” explains Géraldine Mathieu. “It reminds us that domestic violence is not limited to a few visible incidents, but can be part of a gradual dynamic of control and domination.”

This concept helps us grasp a reality that has long been underestimated: a person can gradually lose their freedom, self-confidence, or autonomy without there necessarily being any physical violence. Isolation, surveillance, control over finances or movements, systematic belittling… these are all mechanisms that build lasting control, the consequences of which can be just as devastating as physical violence. The book explores how this concept, now recognized within the Belgian legal system, compels the law to listen more closely to victims and to “take seriously realities that sometimes fell outside our usual categories,” explains Géraldine Mathieu.

The book also devotes significant attention to invisible forms of violence (psychological, economic, administrative, or digital), including those that continue after separation and those that affect children. “To name it is already to acknowledge it. And to acknowledge it is to enable better protection,” emphasizes Géraldine Mathieu.

These forms of violence pose a major challenge: they defy existing legal categories, often evade reporting mechanisms, and remain underdocumented. The book’s contributions aim to bring these forms of violence to light through statistical, sociological, and clinical approaches, while also examining the blind spots in public policy. As Géraldine Mathieu puts it: “Words are not just for describing the world. Identifying a form of violence means acknowledging what victims are going through and better understanding the mechanisms at work.”

In the face of this complexity, compartmentalized approaches reveal their limitations. The book brings together 25 contributions from academics, judges, lawyers, clinicians, and practitioners in the field, all sharing a common conviction: “The most relevant solutions emerge when everyone contributes their experience and is willing to learn from others.”

The law (criminal, family, property, and juvenile) is analyzed in depth at the Belgian, European, and international levels, but is constantly placed in dialogue with psychology, sociology, and practices in the field.

The conference embodied this same approach. By bringing together in one room professionals who do not always cross paths, it allowed new perspectives to emerge. “When professionals who don’t always follow the same practices take the time to listen to one another, new ideas emerge and everyone leaves a little changed,” observes Géraldine Mathieu. The outcome exceeded her expectations: for Marie-Amélie Delvaux, an attorney and lecturer at the Faculty of Law, the day was “eye-opening”: “We’re leaving with concrete tools; the speakers drew us into their cause.”

The book builds on this momentum by presenting innovative approaches and inspiring practices to improve the identification, prevention, and support of victims. 

The Vulnerabilities & Societies Research Center at UNamur takes a resolutely interdisciplinary approach to situations of human vulnerability, at the intersection of law, psychology, and the social sciences. It pays particular attention to vulnerable populations and fundamental rights.

Its unique character is based on a twofold goal: to produce rigorous knowledge and to foster dialogue between academic scholarship and practical fieldwork.

“Addressing serious issues with rigor, but also with enough openness to learn from others,” summarizes Géraldine Mathieu, co-director of the center.

Beyond research and teaching, V&S; sees itself as a meeting place between the academic world and the field, convinced that knowledge realizes its full value when it is shared and discussed. This mission is fully illustrated by this conference and the accompanying book.

Launched in 2010 by NARILIS (Namur Research Institute for Life Sciences), the “student-researcher” program is based on a simple yet ambitious idea: to enable motivated students to immerse themselves in research starting in their undergraduate years. The goal is not necessarily to train future academics, but to push students out of their comfort zones, to develop their ability to learn independently, and to tackle complex subjects methodically and autonomously. These are valuable skills, regardless of the career path they choose.

Today, this educational model is gaining traction beyond the NARILIS Institute. At the UNamur Law Faculty, Donaciene Quoirin tried the experiment last year as part of writing a scientific article alongside Géraldine Mathieu, a professor of family and juvenile law, and Bee Marique, a lawyer and teaching assistant. Her mission? To give children a voice. This year, she has joined Lisa Salmon in the CAPACITI project, focused on children’s rights, in collaboration with researcher Manon Brulard.

CAPACITI is a research project aimed at engaging children in learning about and advocating for their rights. Far from being a desk-bound endeavor, it involves going directly to meet with children—particularly in schools—to hear their voices and understand how they perceive their rights.

The students were therefore tasked with designing fun educational tools, leading workshops with classes, taking notes, and facilitating activities. 

“For example, we created a little game called ‘Agree, Disagree,’ using signs, and a picture game to match a right with its illustration… These are practical tools we developed in collaboration with Manon Brulard,” explains Donaciene.

Lisa, for her part, focused on developing a board game inspired by Monopoly and Trivial Pursuit, while actively participating in on-site activities. 

More recently, they have also contributed to in-depth research on the procedures for hearing children under Belgian law. This work will enable the creation of fun fact sheets for children to answer all their questions about how hearings before a judge take place.

What strikes Donaciene and Lisa is not only the intellectual depth of the project, but the human reality it reveals. During the workshops in schools, the children open up with disarming ease, sometimes on very sensitive topics. 

“We’ve been here for two hours, and they’re coming up to us to talk about very personal things. I found that pretty impressive,” Donaciene says.

Lisa, for her part, was struck by the way the children sometimes look at one another: “What struck me is that even among themselves, they can judge each other. Children trying to speak, not very sure of themselves, facing a group that judges…”

On the issue of rights themselves, the conclusion is clear: children know little, or misunderstand, their practical implications. “They’re for them and they’re essential, but they don’t know much about them,” Lisa sums up. Donaciene, for her part, observes two types: those who know they have rights but feel they aren’t respected much in the face of parental authority, and those who’ve never heard of them.

What makes this educational program particularly unique is also the nature of the relationship between the researcher and the students. Manon Brulard, the project’s principal investigator, is only three years older than Donaciene and Lisa. This closeness fosters a genuine, horizontal dynamic of collaboration, far removed from the traditional mentor-mentee model.

“I really want to treat them as full-fledged researchers. I give them meaningful tasks—tasks that will have a tangible impact. I don’t want to ask them to do work that no one will read,” Manon insists.

For her, working with student researchers also breaks the isolation inherent in research: “Research is a very solitary endeavor. Being able to discuss things after the sessions, to share ideas, is extremely enriching.”

The inclusion of the student-researcher status in the curriculum is no small matter. While Donaciene initially contributed on a volunteer basis as a student-researcher to the drafting of a scientific article, student participation in the CAPACITI project is now recognized as part of their legal internship, earning them 4 credits.

But beyond the credits, it is the experience itself that matters most. Donaciene puts it bluntly: seeing research from the inside, from its inception to its concrete outcomes, has opened her eyes to the profession of research. Lisa, for her part, regrets that the program is still not well-known enough: “If I hadn’t taken the Youth Law track, I would never have known this role existed.”

Both hope to continue the adventure next year and perhaps, one day, make research their career. Provided, they point out with clarity, that the criteria for entering an academic career do not close doors to students who are already rich in concrete and valuable experience.