You probably saw it. The video was everywhere. A senior deputy in a South Carolina public
school apparently lifted a student out of her seat and tilted her so violently that
she tumbled to the ground. Then he
“threw” her across the room and held her down while he handcuffed her.
The uproar occasioned by this
incident was immediate. It was obviously
a case of child abuse. No adult man,
especially a police officer, should ever handle a minor is this manner. As one television commentator put it, “I
would never treat my own children that way.”
The county sheriff quickly
intervened. He promised to investigate
the episode and make sure justice was done.
Then the very next day he fired the deputy, opining that two wrongs
don’t make a right. The student’s
behavior might have been wrong, but so was the deputy’s.
It strikes me that the
sheriff added a third wrong to this unfortunate sequence. In jumping to a conclusion and punishing the
deputy as harshly as he did, he too over-reacted—probably in order to quell the
intense political pressure he was under.
Let us take a step back and
examine what occurred. By all accounts
the student was disruptive. She refused
to control herself despite the teacher’s many requests that she do. The student similarly defied the assistant
principal. No matter what was said, she
would not move.
Only after this was the
deputy called in. Yet he too was disobeyed. Eventually, in his impatience, he went to
remove the girl from her seat. Once
again she resisted. What followed is in
dispute. Some say he intentionally
dumped her onto the ground. Others,
including me, believe that she accidently fell in the process of being picked
up.
In any event, she was then
forcibly moved across the room. Here, some
maintain that she was thrown. It looked
to me, however, that she was dragged.
Either way, she continued to protest and at one point struck the
officer.
Whatever the case, the
critics insist that this was a vicious, and totally unnecessary,
intervention. But I ask, what was the deputy
supposed to do? Was he to spend the next
several hours pleading with her? Was he
to beg, “pretty, pretty, please—with sugar on top?” Should he have walked away?
Had he done the latter,
would all learning have been suspended in that classroom? Might it not also have been discontinued the
following day by a student who discovered that no matter what she did, she
would not be punished?
And what of the nearby
classrooms? Might not other students
have recognized who had the upper hand?
And what of students at other schools?
Might doing nothing have been a prescription for anarchy? It was in Baltimore and Ferguson.
The commentator who insisted
that he would not deal with his children this way almost surely has relatively
obedient children. As a good middle
class parent, he undoubtedly taught them right from wrong and how to regulate
themselves.
But what of children who do
not acquire these internalized controls?
Are they to be allowed to run rampant because utilizing force is ruled
out of bounds as uncivilized? Wouldn’t
this undermine the whole notion of civilization?
The fact is that our society
functions as smoothly as it does because most of us restrain ourselves most of
the time. We are the beneficiaries of
firm, but tolerant, parenting and of reliable policing.
Back in the bad old days,
hunter-gatherers dealt with numerous transgressions by killing the offenders. As a consequence, their death rate was many
times higher than it is today. Are these
the conditions to which we wish to return?
Social order is not
automatic. It must be dependably
enforced. If we go down the road of
insisting that coercion be totally defanged, the result will be
disastrous. Yes, limits need to be
drawn—but they must not be so unreasonable that force is no longer forceful.
Melvyn. L. Fein, Ph.D.
Professor of Sociology
Kennesaw State University
No comments:
Post a Comment