Corporal punishment does more harm than good

My friend and his 4-year-old get into a van with another dad and his young son. The second boy is complaining. Talks back. His father reaches to the back seat and pops the boy on the naked thigh with an open hand. Whap! My friend's boy takes notice. His eyes blaze: "Don't you hit him!"

The man is stunned. Contemplates his pint-sized accuser for a moment. Turns slowly to my friend and says: "Let me guess. You don't hit your kids."

My friend shrugs, almost self-consciously. "Why would I want to hit him?"

It's an excellent question. Corporal punishment is a cultural prejudice, and particularly a Euro-American prejudice. There have been and still are cultures all over this planet where it's unheard of to strike children in any manner as a strategy for education or character formation.

Does corporal punishment work? Depends on your definition of "work." Can it garner a kind of compliance? Sometimes. However, it's just as likely to provoke defiance and deception, not to mention its cost in trust, respect and affection.

I have three sons. Their mother and I decided on an experiment of sorts. Was it necessary to hit children to turn them into good people and productive adults? What would become of children who were never spanked or slapped, let alone struck with paddles, spoons, coat hangers, fly swatters or other household weapons? We decided not to hit them.

I didn't say I never wanted to hit them. Ooh baby. I was holding my second son on the second day of his life. My 22-month firstborn was playing with a metal Matchbox car. He toddled over to stare at his new baby brother. "Hi, Jonathan! This is Aaron," I said, basking in the dear little family moment. Whereupon Jonathan reared back and hurled the Matchbox car in our direction. It hit me on the bridge of the nose, bringing blood. To this day I'm not sure if Jonathan, newly deposed from his Kingdom of the Only Child, was aiming at me or the little usurper in my arms.

Oh yeah. My first reaction was powerful, angry and violent. I spun the chair around and hollered for my then-wife: "Get Jonathan away from me!" And she did. In the fantasy, however, I put the baby down and lay my hands on my boy. I hit back. I actually entertain the idea that I, a 6-foot-1, 180-pound man, have a physical score to settle with a toddler weighing hardly more than a Thanksgiving turkey.

And I didn't say our experiment in child-rearing was without a few setbacks. Their mom and I each filed one demerit -- she when she intercepted Jonathan tipping over the bassinet of his 2-week-old brother and gave our eldest a "wop" on his diapered can, and me when a 3-year-old Joseph punched me square in the nose. In one preconscious reaction I lowered him from my arms and gave him two shots to his backside while shouting "Don't you ever hit me!" Yep, yours truly once spent seven seconds on this planet thinking that hitting my youngest son would be a terrific strategy for teaching him not to hit.

I won't blame you if you need to take a little break from reading this column to let the irony sink in. It's right up there on the Moron Scale with hitting children to get them to stop crying.

See, the thing is, so much of corporal punishment is just that -- a preconscious reaction to fear and anger. In the absence of fear and anger -- that is, when parents are rational -- corporal punishment becomes silly and unnecessary.

Unless, of course, you believe deeply in corporal punishment as ritual and ceremony. A quiet, rational use of absolute power. Go to your room and wait for me. Go get the paddle. Come over here and bend over my knee. Grab your ankles. Pull down your pants and bend over. We invite our children to humiliate and degrade themselves without protest, and we tell ourselves we are teaching obedience.

Oh, we're teaching something all right. We're teaching self-loathing.

And please don't start with "The Bible says 'spare the rod, spoil the child.' " The rod mentioned in the Hebrew scripture is the rod used for sheepherding. Look it up. Ever watch Middle Eastern sheepherders? They walk behind the sheep, tapping them on the flank to steer and guide them.

But Semitic sheepherders don't beat their sheep. Sheep aren't bright enough to make the connection between the pain of the blows and the desired correction of behavior. This proverb is about a child's need for guidance, monitoring and boundaries, not a divine authorization to hit children.

Stop hitting your children. Stop now.

Steven Kalas is a behavioral health consultant and counselor at Clear View Counseling and Wellness Center in Las Vegas. His columns appear on Tuesdays and Sundays. Questions for Asking Human Matters columns or comments can be e-mailed to skalas@reviewjournal.com.