TIME OUT:Why do we continually let children down?
CHILDHOOD IS a short eternity. Its years are few. Its influence is forever. Its memories last a lifetime. Moments can be remembered as hours, hours as weeks, weeks as years and intense events as if they were without end. What is experienced in childhood is etched in the conscious or unconscious mind for the rest of a person’s life.
Childhood shapes the mind, the imagination, the capacity to engage with others, the ability to trust people, the skill to communicate with them, a person’s sense of self, of acceptance, of power, of place in the world, of identity and of life itself.
Childhood memories are vivid. They are visceral. They have a depth, strength and power that is greater than at other times in life. Living is in the detail. Nothing escapes the eye of the child. Objects appear and disappear. Patterns are vibrant. Lights are bright. Darkness is black. Images are engraved in memory forever.
Nothing escapes the ears of a child. Ears are always listening and open. More than words are heard. Meaning is attached. Speed, rhythm and pitch of conversation are interpreted. Tone is absorbed. Body language is noted. Silences are heard. Silences are understood.
Fragrances are important in childhood: the smell of fresh sheets, of new shoes, of winter clothes, of summertime, of animals, of people, of perfume, of alcohol or tobacco on adults, of the sea, of grass, of food and cooking, of the streets, of home and of the world.
The child’s world is tactile. Everything is felt. Human touch is gentle or harsh, reassuring or frightening, careless, careful or neglectful, present or absent, impatient, callous or kind. Clothes are coarse, soft, warm, cool, heavy or light, ugly or beautiful. Objects are of noticeable texture, weight, size and dimension.
The child’s world is often circumscribed by distance from home and sense of place: the house, the garden, the local roads, the nearest town, the community hall, the church, the shops. Everything is noticed: each step on the way to and from school, the smell of the classroom, the sight of the person who sits in front, beside or behind. There is the light from high windows, the voice of the teacher, the rummage in bags, the rustle of books, the routine and rhythm and chants of class.
A child who suffers in childhood carries that pain for a long time. This is why childhood deserves protection, immediate intervention if it goes wrong, preferential treatment, and rights that are not dependent upon the whim of adults, the vigilance of neighbours, the courage of strangers or the efficiency of services. The needs and rights of the child should be unassailable, inalienable, identified and implemented on time.
If the view of the child is not understood, is it because questions are not asked of those who know about children or of children themselves? If questions are asked and the answers are not responded to, then why are children let down? If we know what children need, then why is it not provided? If we care about children, then why are they not put first, in protection, in policy and its enactment?
The suffering of children hurts us all. It raises questions about what kind of people we are that can allow children to endure poverty, neglect, hardship and distress, as so many do. It says that our past is not past but present, and that the child in Ireland remains relatively inaudible in the adult world.
Each new situation that emerges about children suffering provides one more example of where children stand in the hierarchy of power. Not strong. Not high. Not large. They are small, fragile and dependent. Children have no vote. The rights of adults have almost always over-ridden the rights of the child in our culture, despite the hyperbolic aspirational rhetoric surrounding the establishment of the State and declarations of care for children since then.
It is time for us to reflect again on how we care for childhood, remembering that a year is little in a lifetime, but it is a lifetime for a child.
mmurray@irishtimes.com
Marie Murray is a clinical psychologist and author