My parents never beat me though my sister (who was born in Abu Dhabi) insists that our mother either threatened her with the back of a hair-brush or smacked her with it. My sister had long hair which inevitably got tangled and had to be brushed out with severe strokes. I can’t say whether she cried aloud through the pain of having her tangled hair brushed smooth — an operation that must strain the scalp — or whether her protests and cries were caused by a combination of that discomfort and the pain of the hair-brush-back chastisement.
I was beaten mercilessly, and sometimes unjustly, in the secondary school I went to in Pune. I recall a specific memorable occasion:
A friend of our circle, whose family owned a hosiery store on “Main Street”, reported that very flashy and flimsy multi-coloured shorts made of a new, artificial material called nylon had arrived in his shop. Six or eight of us saved our pocket money and bought these shorts together with bright neckties of the same material on which were painted shapely, naked ladies. We determined to impress or scandalise public opinion by wearing this apparel and parading, as we did on most evenings, through Main Street to the Naz Café where we would treat ourselves to a cup of tea.
The six or eight of us walking down the street did make an impression, most significantly on our headmaster who happened to spot us as he was driving by in his maroon-coloured tattered shambles of a car. He drew up, got out and accosted us. “You, you and you,” he said — he knew us all by name — “you are all Bishop’s boys aren’t you?” We shamefacedly agreed, standing at ease with our hands behind our backs.
“You are a disgrace to the school, marching around dressed like that. Report to my office tomorrow wearing exactly what you are wearing now. Carry your school uniforms in a bag.” He drove away.
We went the next morning wearing the nylon shorts and naked-lady ties. We were herded onto the school stage before the school assembly. The head made a speech about how we had let the school down and pronouncing sentence, caned each of us on the backside giving us what was known as “six of the best”. There were other occasions as beatings, canings and floggings were supported by the culture of the school and by the culture of the whole society.
The punishment by caning at the school was, in form, adopted from the British school system. That is not to say that Indian schools, madrasas and others, didn’t apply corporal punishment to pupils before British practices were adopted. In 1998, in the UK, caning and corporal punishment were banned in schools. In 2004, a Children’s Act was passed which forbade the chastisement of children if the beatings were severe, if they left a mark or if a belt or cane (no mention of the back of a hair-brush) were used. The Act still allowed parents, but not teachers or babysitters to administer a moderate, corrective or disciplinary smack to their children, allowing the judiciary a certain amount of discretion in judging whether the punishment had been too harsh or harmful.
Last week, Justice Pauffley, a high court judge, passing judgment on an Indian male whose son had complained that he was beaten with a belt, used the discretion that the law seemed to allow. The man and his wife had come to Britain on a six-month visa but had stayed on. The man was taken to court after an allegation that he assaulted his wife and beat his son with a belt. After hearing the evidence Justice Pauffley concluded that the man was guilty of assaulting his wife. On the charge of beating his son she said, “I do not believe there was punitively harsh treatment of the boy of the kind that would merit the term physical abuse. Proper allowance must be made for what is, almost certainly, a different cultural context.”
This last sentence of her judgment resulted in a storm of comment and protest. Isn’t the law the same for all, regardless of their origin, who live under it? The National Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children (NSPCC) expressed astonishment at Justice Pauffley’s judgment saying “different cultural assumptions or practices are no excuse for child abuse taking place in this country”. The law, the NSPCC argues, doesn’t make the distinction between British-born citizens and people who have migrated to Britain from different countries and cultures and Justice Pauffley was wrong to introduce the notion.
Such a distinction, that of behaviour of one sort or other being excused or even justified by recourse to criteria of cultural differences could cause legal and social chaos. Would Arab male immigrants, for instance, be allowed four wives and their marriage to each be recognised by British law as a concession to cultural differences? To which cultures would such leniency be shown?
There are trivial possibilities. If I were (Ahura Mazda forbid!) a British judge I wouldn’t send a Korean to jail for killing and eating a dog, though stealing one to do so would be quite a different matter and buying one from a stray dog’s home to eat it would trigger other serious reactions.
Justice Pauffley’s judgment should not be seen as a legal precedent for cultural differences in other cases and trials for other offences to be taken into account. The law can’t be culturally relative. In matters of social practice and celebration, Britain can and must be tolerant and embrace multiculturalism.
Except in the case of the law. And for that reason Justice Pauffley’s judgment ought to be referred to the ministry of justice.
