Global outrage was sparked a few days ago when seven year old Yamato Tanooka’s parents briefly left him on a mountain road.
It was punishment for throwing stones at passing cars.
Alas, things didn’t go according to plan. When his parents returned, Yamato was nowhere to be seen.
MORE: Harambe the gorilla – and why we blame mothers first
He disappeared into the mountains – à la Hansel and Gretel – known for their dense population of brown bears.
Cue media hysteria, cue sanctimonious tweeting:
The parents of #YamatoTanooka should be released into the #Gobi desert. Alone. Without water. Never searched for. https://t.co/x912s7cZ2k
— Lars Pellinat (@Lars9596) June 3, 2016
For a while, it did look like poor Yamato was going to meet a grizzly end. But, mercifully, he was found safe and well after six days.
And here’s the thing: Yamato Tanooka won’t be throwing stones at passers-by for a long time to come.
As well as inducing severe bouts of Schadenfreude among the twitterati, Yamato’s plight served to re-ignite ongoing debate about child punishment.
Punishment has been a favoured parental tactic since time began, but the rise of the nanny state has rendered it deeply unfashionable – even shaming – for today’s mothers and fathers.
MORE: Quitting the EU will turbocharge the Commonwealth
In literature, punishment has been employed to excite and capture the imagination of children for centuries. Take “The Story of Little Suckathumb”, from Heinrich Hoffman’s “Struwwelpeter”: Conrad’s mother warns “don’t suck your thumb while I’m away. The great tall tailor always comes to little boys who suck their thumbs.”
Conrad, of course, disobeys. “Mamma comes home; there Conrad stands, and looks quite sad, and shows his hands: ‘Ah!’ said Mamma ‘I knew he’d come to naughty little Suck-a-Thumb.’
Now I don’t know about you, but I’d rather meander through a mountain than cross paths with the Great Tall Tailor.
Conrad isn’t alone in folklore.
Hilaire Beloc tells of Jim who escapes his nurse and is eaten by a lion; Hoffman warns of Harriet who played with matches and was burned alive ‘till she had nothing more to lose except her little scarlet shoes; and nothing else but these were found among her ashes on the ground.”
Susan Coolidge’s nineteenth century classic novel What Katy Did pivots on the protagonist playing on a swing against her aunt’s advice, whence she cripples herself.
But these stories are increasingly condemned. They have been usurped by official governmental documents and The Child Protection System.
The UK’s Department of Health’s guidebook Birth to Five, given to all new parents, bossily instructs parents to “be nice” by avoiding punishment and focus on positive reinforcement. How on earth did any parent survive without the Department of Health?
My memory of childhood punishment isn’t particularly scarring. In fact, I remember “punishment walks” after long lunches were something of a sensation – there’s nothing children enjoy more than uniting against The Common Enemy: The Grown Ups.
In time, they grew to encourage a sentiment of solidarity whilst teaching us to behave well if we wanted to be treated well.
Of course, children must be protected, and it is our responsibility to ensure that they are.
It goes without saying that there are many heinous cases in which children are maltreated in the most unimaginable, wickedest of ways – and this must be stopped.
But no long-term harm can come to children who are occasionally sent to bed without supper.
Or told to “get out of the car and walk.”
No one will be feeling worse about Yamato than his parents.
Let’s give them, and parents everywhere, a break.
Hansel and Gretel got their happy ending. And thankfully, Yamato has his.
