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Intervening on Behalf of a Child in a Public Place
Part 1: Is It Our Business?
By Jan Hunt, M.Sc.
We see it everywhere. A tired parent, at the end of a stressful day, loses it - and a child suffers. We'd like to help if we could, but we hesitate. Is it our business to intervene? And if we do, will we embarrass and antagonize the parent, imperiling the child even more? Will we make the mistake of harshly telling a parent to be gentle with her children? Isn't it more tactful to walk past without comment? After all, none of us is a perfect parent.
There seems to be a common assumption in our society that intervening on behalf of a child in a public place is necessarily hurtful and critical. It need be neither. There is a world of difference between officious, hurtful criticism ("How dare you treat your child like that?") and helpful intervention done in a caring way ("It can be really hard to meet their needs when you're so busy. Is there anything I can do to help?") There is nothing inherent in intervention that requires one to be offensive. The sheer act of offering assistance to the parent, or comfort to the child, need have no offending qualities at all.
I have successfully intervened by offering to find a mother's groceries, helping a child pick up dropped toys, and helping a mother dress a tired toddler. All of these women were genuinely grateful, thanked me for helping, and immediately began treating their children with greater compassion. I always carry colorful stickers, which I have found can work magic for distracting a tired, bored, or fussy child whose parents may just be too exhausted to be patient. When the child is happier from this unexpected gift (not just the sticker but the gentle attention and eye contact) the parents often relax and can even be a bit energized from the experience. We can intervene in a positive way, and give the message that we care about both the parent and child.
Many in our society make a second common assumption, that the choice we have is to give a message to the parent (and the child) or to give no message at all. But "giving no message" is not, in fact, one of our choices. We give as clear a message by walking past a distraught child as we do by intervening. Walking past, we give the message to the child that no one cares about his suffering, and to the parents we give the message that we approve of their actions.
I have been asked if I advocate intervention in every case of potential abusiveness, including, presumably, that of a merely sad-looking child; of course 1 do not. But there is a big difference between a child crying for no apparent reason and one who is crying because he has just been hit hard, insulted, or completely ignored. But even if a baby Is crying for mysterious reasons. the parent might still welcome an offer of assistance. A simple offer to help, spoken pleasantly, is nonjudgmental and, in my experience, always welcomed. How unfortunate that the taboo against public intervention has prevented parents from helping each other in stressful situations.
Babies cry for many reasons; we should not assume that the parent is at fault with only circumstantial evidence. Yet my friends and I have witnessed some really harmful acts: slapping, hitting, shoving, arm-yanking, pinning against a wall, severe verbal abuse, negative labeling, hurtful comparisons to siblings, and so on. These children accept this treatment because they are too helpless and inexperienced to stand up for themselves. Should we, who are older and wiser, simply walk past an obviously abusive situation? At exactly what point should we step in? Should we wait until the child is the victim of a severe physical assault? But assault takes many forms. Just because emotional abuse leaves no outward scars should not excuse us from helping these children. Those of us who can recognize damaging treatment have an obligation to step in (and again, this can be done in a compassionate and helpful way).
There is one more reason for intervening that Is nearly always overlooked in these discussions, but which I consider to be the most significant: the lifelong effect it can have on the child. Many adults in counseling sessions still recall with gratitude the one time that a stranger stepped in on their behalf, and how much it meant: that someone cared, and that the child's feelings of anger and frustration were recognized and accepted. These adults have stated to me (and to other psychologists)that this one intervention changed their lives and gave them hope. Are we to bypass the opportunity to make such a profound difference in the life of a child?
Even in the unfortunate - and hopefully rare - case where the parent is offended, the intervention may still act as a reminder to the parent to be more attentive to the nature of their interactions with their child.
Psychiatric case histories clearly show that today's psychopathic adults were yesterday's hurt children. There is no time machine we can take to help yesterday's children. But we can help today's children to become secure and responsible adults who will treat their own children with dignity, love, and compassion.
Intervening on Behalf of a Child in a Public Place
Part 2: What Can We Do?
By Jan Hunt, M.Sc.
She is adorable, with a mass of brown curls and large blue eyes; she is about three. She has just learned about pockets. She reaches out to take a small item from a shelf, and holds it over her pocket. She studies the item for a moment, and then lets it fall into her pocket. Plop! She gives a satisfied little laugh. She reaches into her pocket to try this again. But this is inside a store, and the item -- which costs a quarter -- has not been paid for.
Her father, standing nearby, has been watching this incident with growing fury. Enraged, he rushes over to the little girl, snatches the object from her hand, and shouts at her, "If you ever steal something again, I'll break your fingers!". The horror of this threat collides with her laughter, and she stands there, cowering, silent, and afraid.
The scene just described is, unfortunately, not fiction. It took place in a large department store in a medium-sized city in Canada. Although this example may be extreme, it is not unique; both physical and emotional abuses take place daily to many children in our society. One does not need to venture out in public long before hearing threats, impatient commands, statements of mistrust, and angry words directed at children, and deaf ears turned to crying infants.
When abuse happens behind closed doors, it is seldom apparent to others until it becomes severe and repetitive, or physical or sexual abuse is discovered. But when it happens in public, we have an opportunity to intervene. How, then, can we as observers respond in a way that is helpful to both parent and child, when we witness such abuse?
As none of us is a perfect parent, it may be most helpful to consider what type of response we ourselves would prefer if we were observed treating our children in a less than compassionate way. From this perspective, the following pattern may be useful when encountering such a situation in a public place:
1. We need to show empathy for the parent: "It can really be challenging when children are little and still learning about stores."
2. We might then share something of our own -- or our child's -- experience: "I remember when I was four and my parents saw me pick something up, but I didn't really understand about stealing."
3. We should then empathize with the child: "It must frighten you to see your father get so angry." We can then add: "This is a nice toy. It must be hard for you to have to leave it here."
4. Finally, we can offer a suggestion: "My child finds it helpful to keep a wish list for things we can't buy yet. You might find that helpful, too."
While it may be difficult to think of the perfect response in the heat of the moment, the sheer act of standing up for the child can have a significant impact on the child herself, even if the intervention causes the parent to become angry or defensive. Many adults in counseling sessions still remember vividly the one time that a stranger stepped in on their behalf, and how much that meant -- that someone cared, and that the child's feelings of fear, confusion, and anger were understood and accepted.
We might consider responding as we would if we were to come upon a close friend in a similar situation. We would assume the best, assume that this situation was atypical and related to a stressful time in the parent's life. The first step of expressing empathy for the parent will maximize our chances of being heard, and show the parent that we believe in his good intentions. This approach offers us the best chance to avoid antagonizing the parent into further abusive behavior.
Yet even if the parent does not respond to the intervention in a fully positive way, it does not necessarily mean that our message went unheard. In a quieter moment, he may remember and reconsider what he was unable to accept at the time.
Intervention can be difficult, especially in a society where there are taboos against commenting on a stranger's parenting skills. For this reason, even those adults who recognize abusive treatment and empathize with the child may choose to pass by in silence. Unfortunately, walking past a distraught child also gives a message. It tells the child that no one cares about her suffering, and it implies to the parent that we approve of the parent's behavior.
Although the father in our story meant to give his daughter a worthwhile moral lesson, his response to her is, ironically, certain to lower her self-esteem and make actual theft a real possibility. How could the little girl know that his words were only a threat no sane person would carry out? She could not know, and until someone speaks out on her behalf, she may never know.
Psychiatric case histories clearly show a direct correlation between the amount of abuse and punishment suffered in childhood and the degree of psychopathic behavior in later years: today's psychopathic adults were yesterday's abused children. We cannot take a time machine back to help yesterday's children, but we can help the children of today to become responsible adults of tomorrow who will treat their children with respect and empathy. We can "bear witness" in public to the children. We can let them know we value them, and that we do not believe they should be mistreated. If the community does not make it clear that child abuse is unacceptable, abusive practices will only continue from one generation to the next. If we are careful to intervene in a way that shows empathy for the parent as well, we have done the job we intended.
The little girl's fingers were not touched, but her vision of the world she lives in will never be the same. Perhaps one day, someone will come forth and speak out on her behalf -- and do so in a way that her father can also hear the words.
Thanks mama!
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