So why punish children?
I guess this is where I really want to go with the themes of grace, retribution and rehabilitation. Why do we punish children? I'm talking the young ones, under the age of 7 or 8 (although I have thoughts on the older ones, too).
We tend to take for granted the idea that rewards and punishments are a necessary way -- if not the only way -- to train children in appropriate behavior. We're supposed to find deterrents to discourage undesirable behavior: penalties that add a little something unpleasant in order to "make them learn" or "make them think next time." The idea is that, upon their next opportunity for misbehavior, they'll consider the possibility of the penalty, fear it, and choose to avoid it by pursuing a course of appropriate behavior. Rewards, the mirror image of punishments, provide incentives for desirable behavior -- so the child is to choose a course of action (staying quiet, sitting down, stop hitting) in an effort to receive an (often unrelated) benefit.
Spelling it all out sounds pedantic. But behavioral conditioning in its current form is hardly innate to our biological and spiritual makeup -- in fact, it's a fairly recent cultural tradition.
A "utilitarian" value system -- seeking the greater social good through punishment of undesirable activity -- originates in (among other things) 18th Century economic theory. For instance, the theories of Jeremy Bentham (the economic legal theorist) on "strategic behavior": a potential criminal weighs the possible punishment against the benefit of his crime. I might decide, say, it's worth it to go 10 mph over the speed limit, because I want to get where I'm going more than I care about a 1% chance at a $100 speeding ticket. And really you don't have to analyze Bentham to understand the "Pavlovian" method of reward and punishment. This is so ingrained in our culture that few parents question whether it's a viable (much less moral and ethical) approach to raising their children. But it's critical to question whether reward and punishment "work" in families -- what goals do they accomplishment? And at what cost?
People are relational. We crave society, family, approval, validation and attention from each other. We can call these relationships "rewards" -- and surely we have all behaved strategically in the interest of pursuing a relationship -- but in doing so, we sell ourselves short. When we approach our relationships with the goal of conditioning other people's behavior, we shut our eyes to the possibility of unconditional love.
Love can be examined by science (and social science). Maslow's Heirarchy tells us that, with our biological and safety needs met, love and belonging come next; without them, we cannot proceed to growth and self-actualization. Study after study shows that infants thrive not just on food, sleep and warmth but on their attachment, both physical and emotional, to people who love them. And for most of us, love is even bigger than that -- it’s our defining value, our foundational premise, our directive and our goal.
But behavioral conditioning gives a message of conditional love. When our children are Pavlovian objects, to be trained by well-timed rewards and punishments that coincide with their behaviors, we react strategically in hopes of manipulating them. The most obvious examples are threats of pain (the American spanking, a part of many "traditional" upbringings which most of us would say we survived just fine) -- even temporary pain, that does not mark or injure, operates by causing enough fear of significant pain that a child molds his behavior appropriately. But that's not the only way we tell our child that he's safed and loved only if and when his behavior pleases us. Punitive isolation (the traditional "time out") tells a child, "you will be accepted as part of our family again when you behave appropriately -- or finish paying your penalty." And our very attention and affection for our children -- the comforting hug, the kind word of praise, the cozy snuggle -- can be defined as "rewards" that we must strategically dole out or withhold in order to react appropriately to their behavior.
The problem is, reward and punishment don't work all that well. So many parents, after reading every advice book and following every formula, become frustrated when no amount of consistent and stern punishment will get them the behavior they want from their children. And when our attitudes are locked into a model of behavioral conditioning, we often just give up and stop trying to hold our children to any standards at all. And what do kids really sit through punishments reflecting on the moral lesson -- or do they think more along the lines of "No fair! I hate you!" How many of us have rewarded a child only to pursue a spiraling game of "how much will you pay me to do what you want?" Or felt bored and dishonest when praising a child's banal (yet appropriate) behavior? Our hearts are crying out for a relationship -- for honest and unconditional love. But we fear that by loving unconditionally, we might ruin our children for life.
The good news is, none of this is necessary. Children can be disciplined in appropriate behavior without reward and without punishment. We can set boundaries and uphold standards without pain, fear or withholding affection and care. When our instincts move us to comfort a crying child, we can follow the wisdom of every cell in our biological makeup -- the legacy of generations of mothers and fathers -- and raise a healthy family by following those instincts. Parenting is easier (and much more fun) than all the books on reward and punishment would have you believe.
At our house, hugs and kisses are free.
For reference:
Arms of Love Family Fellowship
Effective Practical Parenting: Communicating Love
History of Punishment
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4 comments:
This, of course, is exactly right.
In defense of the utilitarians, though, I'd point out that Mill and Bentham's theories are premised on the notion that human beings are rational actors who are capable of cognitively understanding the costs and benefits of their actions and assessing their self own interest.
I don't know what they thought about discipling children, per se, but the rational actor premise manifestly cannot apply to children. And our legal traditions reflect that simple fact: at common law, people are deemed legally incompentent during their "infancy" (which, typically, means until they're 18 years old). That means that they are not (with some exceptions) subject to the penal system. And at common law (I think) children under the age of 7 or 8 were immune from liability for civil negligence--which means that the common law judges didn't think that young children had the capacity of acting reasonably or assessing the probably outcomes of their behavior under any circumstances!
Maybe today's parents can learn a thing or two from those old common law judges.
Good points. 7 or 8 is now believed to be the "pre-logic" age, where children become able to analyze the cause and effect of their actions, and plan accordingly.
But "child-trainers" (who I refuse to name or link to) will argue that dogs don't have more logic than small children. And Pavlov trained dogs. This why I think that unconditional love is such an important starting point. Our children deserve better (and maybe dogs do, too)
The common law judges had some insight there, too. They understood that dogs could be trained, and that's why they attached strict liability on a dog's owner for biting and so forth. People were EXPECTED to control their dogs because dogs can be controlled.
There was (and is) no strict parental legal liability for a child's negligent or even malicious acts, and, this, I think, reflects the social understanding that kids are autonomous individuals who, until a certain age at least, are incapable of acting rationally or in predictable ways to incentives. And, more importantly, children are not dogs. They are human beings who deserve respect and dignity.
This isn't to say that a bunch of dead English judges had everything right. But they did craft social rules that reflected centuries of observation and adjustment, and they had an institutional memory. That something today's parents can't claim.
Good points. I'd also say that, as parents, we have an obligation to protect our young children (and others) from the natural consequences of their actions. I guess this is what people often mean by "controlling" your children -- all the things you can do to prevent them from hurting themselves or others.
We might not be liable for battery if our toddler slaps another child in the face, but we don't let him wander around swinging a metal baseball bat. There is a "standard of care" there, and an obligation to protect others.
And I'd say that our institutional memory was warped by lots of things in the 20th century -- industry, science, capitalism. This fed us the idea that there is some kind of magic formula (literally and metaphorically) that makes parenting easier and more "under control."
We'll see if coming generations will be able to leave Pavlolv's legacy behind, maybe learn from it, and get back to our roots?
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