Shameful resistance to protecting our children

It is deeply troubling that Sri Lanka’s long-overdue effort to criminalise corporal punishment of children has met such fierce resistance from sections of teachers and, most disappointingly, the clergy. Equally shameful is the Government’s apparent willingness to bow to this regressive pressure. At a time when countries across the world have evolved to recognise corporal punishment as a form of child abuse, Sri Lanka seems poised to take a step backward, clinging to outdated notions of discipline cloaked in the language of “tradition” and “culture.”

For generations, corporal punishment has been justified as a necessary tool to instil respect and obedience in children. But research, experience, and plain moral reasoning now show the opposite to be true. Striking, humiliating, or inflicting pain on a child does not produce respect, it breeds fear, resentment, and a lifelong internalisation of violence as a normal means of asserting power. Children who are hit to “learn a lesson” learn only that violence works. When they grow up, they repeat this lesson in their adult relationships, in the workplace, and in society at large.

The chain of violence begins in the classroom and the home. A child who learns that pain is part of love or authority may later become a partner who equates aggression with intimacy, or a boss who confuses intimidation with leadership. Studies from around the world have shown that corporal punishment is directly linked to higher rates of domestic violence, bullying, and sexual harassment. It erodes empathy, normalises dominance, and leaves lasting psychological scars that often go untreated.

To those who argue that corporal punishment “worked” in the past, the evidence of our current social decay tells a different story. A society steeped in violence, from domestic abuse to road rage to political thuggery, cannot pretend that its tolerance for “disciplinary” violence has no consequences. The roots of aggression are planted early, and every strike of the cane waters them.

In this context, it is outrageous that religious leaders, those expected to be the moral compass of society, are at the forefront of defending violence against children. Cardinal Malcolm Ranjith’s claim that corporal punishment is “part of our culture” is not only misguided but dangerous. Culture is not static. It evolves with understanding, compassion, and the recognition of human dignity. The same argument was once used to defend slavery, caste discrimination, and child marriage. To invoke “culture” as a shield for cruelty is to weaponise tradition against progress.

Every major religious tradition, at its core, preaches compassion and non-violence. Yet, some within our clergy seem determined to preserve their authority by defending harmful practices. Their message to the faithful, in effect, is that hurting a child is acceptable if done in the name of discipline. This is a gross distortion of both morality and theology.

It is particularly disturbing that the Government, instead of standing firm on behalf of the country’s children, appears to be yielding to these patriarchal and authoritarian forces. The reluctance to pass legislation criminalising corporal punishment reflects a political cowardice that values appeasement over principle. Leadership demands moral courage, the courage to protect the vulnerable, even when powerful institutions protest.

If Sri Lanka is to move forward as a humane nation, we must begin by protecting our youngest citizens from violence in all its forms. Criminalising corporal punishment is not an attack on culture but a defence of our future. Those who resist it, whether in cassocks or classrooms, are standing on the wrong side of history.