Malaysia, you get an F for child protection

Finally, I have to applaud one journalist, Boo Su-Lynn, for her article on what had to be said regarding the Malaysian child abuse case in Sweden.

Her piece, which states the vast difference between how Malaysian and Swedish media (and citizens) have handled the issue, has been, sadly, the only one to stand up for the rights of the child.

Let me get one thing out of the way here. I was spanked and caned by my parents when I was young. My brothers and I were. Not all the time, but when we were really naughty. With the rotan, paddle, or a clothes hanger, and maybe one time or two, with a belt. Never too hard, and never with cruelty or malice.

I can safely say that many of my Malaysian friends and I trade these kinds of stories, accompanied by a giggle or two, about these punishments our parents used to give us. They were loving parents, they raised us right, and hey, look at us now – we turned out all right! We weren't scarred at all! Hey, sometimes a little spank is good for discipline!

I’m sure this is the conversation many Malaysians continue to have about the spanking of children today. But this isn’t about me or you and how we were spanked. This is the problem – it is a very selfish way to think, and we aren’t expanding our understanding much by reasoning this way.

We fall into the trap of thinking in a very self-centred and self-involved manner, as if everyone must be lucky enough (to have such great parents) and tough enough (to survive a spank or two).

Good for us. But what about the kids whose parents do not know the fine line between a spank and hitting a child too hard?

What of a hit to the bottom, or a whack to the head? What about a whip of a cane, versus 30 whips? Twice a month, four times a day? What is too many or too much here? Can you decide? Where are the grey lines? Are we willing to risk a child’s safety and mental health by assuming the very best of all parents?

With all the generational change, educational developments and new research we have learned over the years, surely it isn’t too much to ask for us to agree that there are many other ways to discipline a child without resorting to physical punishment.

Working in a school in the UK now and having undergone child protection training, it is apparent to me that the rights of the child are placed first here when any complaint or concern comes to light.

Numerous studies have shown time and again that children who suffer from abuse or neglect are impacted in the long-term. In fact, research on the brains of these children have shown that stress or neglect affects their development.

Infant stress or childhood physical abuse can lead to surges of cortisol levels in teenagers, where the rush of adrenaline and the fight-or-flight mechanism kicks in during anxious moments.

Professor Barbara Lowenthal, who authored ‘Abuse and Neglect: The Educator's Guide to the Identification and Prevention of Child Maltreatment’ wrote that maltreated youngsters have brains organised for the purposes of survival and are constantly in the state of high alert. “The youngsters are at great risk for emotional, behavioral, learning, and physical difficulties (Herman, 1992; Terr, 1990),” she wrote.

Taking these important points into consideration, and with several deaths of abused children in the UK, it is no surprise that many developed countries have continued to enhance their child protection laws. Schools have to look out for any warning signs or concerns about how a child is behaving, and to follow a clear line of action should the alert be raised.

The emphasis is on protecting the child’s health, safety and welfare, whether or not the child wants to stay with his drug-addict parent, for example. Whether or not the child changes his or her story on sexual abuse because they feel guilty about tearing their family apart. Whether or not they are very scared about what may happen to people they love. They are just children.

Boo Su-Lynn’s article rightly pointed out extremely troubling points, which were that the Malaysian media have been blatantly sympathetic to the parents, the children have been portrayed as the ones prone to lies and exaggeration, the children were named and photographed repeatedly, and that they were even allowed to talk to journalists!

I watched Press videos of the children when they returned to Malaysia - they often looked confused, emotional and were asked leading questions. Where were the child safety officers or psychologists? Where were the officials to say ‘You cannot speak to the children, or publish their photos or names’?

At one point, a ministry official said (rather dramatically) to the cameras that he wanted to pass a message to the children from their parents, and that it was basically along the lines of “Mom and dad say ‘I forgive you, children!’”.

What does this all imply, and who are we thinking about here?

Many people have been writing in vouching for the good characters of the parents, and it is obvious that most of us would like to believe that these were good people, and it was all a misunderstanding.

But what if it was not? If none of us know really what has transpired behind closed doors, should we not err on the side of caution, on the side of the children?

With all the media attention on the children, and the interaction with all the people who wish to reunite them with their parents, would the children dare continue any genuine claim of abuse now?

We should be having a deeper, more informed debate about child protection issues at hand, rather than just a simplistic wave of ‘Sorry Sweden, you don’t understand our culture!’

People have pointed out flaws in the Swedish child protection system. But the fact of the matter is, Malaysia is even more flawed in this issue.

In fact, going by how things have transpired, it looks as if the Swedish people have been looking out for those Malaysian children and putting their interests first, more so than Malaysians have themselves.