Spare the Rod, Spoil the Cycle of Violence

Could I sell you on the idea of allowing police officers to slap people around for minor infractions of the law? Not hard, mind you, just a couple of smacks for breaking the speed limit or cutting someone off on the freeway.

“Drop your pants and lean over the fender, please” could replace, “May I see your license and registration?”

Or, how about the boss having a paddle or a belt to teach you telephone manners or to keep your records straight?

Absurd, silly--even barbaric--suggestions, aren’t they?

Yet as a society, we apparently see nothing wrong with treating children in exactly that manner.

Before they can even walk, we slap their hands for picking up things they should not grab or for touching things that could be harmful to them.

Then, as they grow a little older, we slap their hands a little harder or swat them on their bottoms--always with an open hand, of course.

When it truly does start hurting us more than it does them, we graduate to switches and paddles and belts. Of course, there are times when nothing but a fist will do.

We call it beating some sense into them.

How else, the “reasoning” goes, are they going to learn?

If I sound angry, it’s because I am--the result of a recent conversation with Bob Malmberg, a supervisor at the Orange County Child Abuse Registry.

One of his jobs is to keep track of some pretty awful statistics--the number of children who are beaten senseless, sexually abused or criminally neglected in this county, the center of the good life in America.

They are figures that are rising faster than our population. And, please keep in mind, Malmberg knows only about those cases that are reported to the authorities. God only knows how many aren’t--God and the neighbors and friends who choose to believe that such things are none of their business.

Through June of this year, the last month for which complete statistics are available, almost 10,000 cases of child abuse were reported. Of the cases, 40% were physical abuse, 24% sexual, 4% emotional and the balance criminal neglect.

For all of 1987, 15,000 cases were reported.

That means we can expect a total of more than 20,000 by year’s end--20,000 helpless souls dehumanized by their own parents.

Do not think for a moment that these cases are confined to particular neighborhoods or races or economic levels either, because they aren’t. They cross over every real or artificial line we have.

No one will ever convince me that child abuse does not start with spanking. As a matter of fact, no one will ever convince me that spanking is in itself not a form of child abuse.

Save the arguments; I’ve heard them all. I know that by spanking a child, the punishment is over. I know that by placing mine on restriction that I have to become a cop, that I then have to police it, to make sure the TV is not on or that the phone is not being used.

But I also know that punishment is on a sliding scale, that it increases with the severity of the offense. I can safely kick my scale up. How does a person who spanks his or her child increase the punishment?

Or what if they have had a bad day, are frustrated or just in an ugly mood?

Or what if it turns out that they were wrong and punished the child for something the kid did not do?

I can rescind my sentence.

Malmberg especially worries about people who use switches or belts. “I’m over six feet, and I have long arms,” he says, “so if I were to use a stick or something, just the radius of the swing would tremendously intensify the force of the blow. I don’t think people are aware of that.”

Also, stop and consider what we are teaching children when we spank them. “We’re demonstrating to them that the way to deal with frustration is with violence,” he says.

Not that I was never swatted as a kid. I was--but never by my parents. I attended elementary and junior high school in Los Angeles when public corporal punishment was still accepted.

The coaches had their paddles, and so did most of the teachers. My homeroom teacher, for example, was particularly adept at “giving swats,” as it was known, and turned the whole process into a complex, semi-religious ritual. He had a large chart in front of the room with all the crimes and misdemeanors listed, along with the swats each earned, kind of a reverse merit system.

Offenses were not limited to his classes. Hearsay would get you a check or two.

Each homeroom period was taken up almost entirely with the process of meting out punishment. The victim could choose a friend to hold his head while the teacher whacked away with what he lovingly referred to as his “board of education.” We had to chant, in Latin, the phrase, “I who am about to die salute you”--and we could get extra swats for not saying it properly.

I look back and realize that it was his raison d’etre, the highlight of his day. Today, of course, he would be jailed--with good reason. He was just an everyday child-beater, cloaked with the same kind of authority that we give all parents.

I’m not saying we should never lay a finger on our kids. On the contrary, we should. We should pat them on the backs, shake their hands, tousle their hair and, above all, hug them.

Otherwise, we should keep our hands to ourselves.