E te iwi whanui, tena koutou katoa. Nga hau e wha, e nga waka, e nga tai e wha, nga mihi nui ki a koutou.

Martyn Turner (President, Save the Children NZ), John Bowis (secretary), Board members, speakers and guests.

Thank you for inviting me to participate in this important session at your annual general meeting.

I was particularly pleased to be asked to contribute to the session on the New Zealand Programme.

Usually, when we think about Save the Children, we picture youngsters in need from other cultures, other countries. Yet, like most of you here, I know that our own child abuse statistics are a matter of grave concern for our nation.

There is a place, alongside those images of needy children abroad, for photos of sad, hurt New Zealand children. It is therefore very appropriate that we should focus firmly on our children at home, while not forgetting the need of children in other countries.

I have been asked to discuss the impact of physical punishment and abuse of children on New Zealand families and communities, and how this can be addressed in our society and in the Courts.

I will start by telling you about my dog, Thelma. She's an absolute delight, a funny, naughty boston terrier.

Occasionally, like all youngsters, she misbehaves. If I chose to beat her as punishment, I would have committed an offence.

Similarly, should you or I become frustrated with the actions of another adult, and physically assault him or her, we would have committed a criminal act.

It is a crime to assault an animal. It is a crime to assault another adult. However, in this country, parents are permitted to use reasonable force to punish their children under section 59 of the Crimes Act.

The key word, and the one that most likely stops many parents in New Zealand from agreeing that physical punishment of their children should be abolished, is the word 'reasonable'. What is 'reasonable' is to most people a very subjective concept. To one parent, it would be reasonable to smack a child on the bottom, to another, it is acceptable to cuff a child across the head or to smack him or her with a strap or a wooden spoon.

The legal test however, allows for an objective assessment of what is reasonable. So if a parent believed that he or she was not disciplining or punishing their child with unreasonable force, but a Court thought otherwise, then an offence would have been committed.

So the law is not precise. It does not say: this type of discipline is acceptable but this is not. Smacking a child on the hand is all right, unless you draw blood or bruise but hitting the child with a strap is not acceptable. No wonder parents are unsure just what the correct degree of force is.

Possibly because 'reasonable force is such a difficult concept, New Zealanders have indicated they do not wish to see a repeal of section 59. A Ministry of Justice survey last year showed that 80 percent of parents believed smacking a child with the hand was acceptable. So, it seems, the law reflects the wish of the people, or at the least that most New Zealanders think that hand smacking is reasonable force, for the purpose of punishment.

Yet the legal definition of 'assault' says that any intentionally applied force, no matter how slight constitutes an assault. So there is a contradiction in the way we look at the assault of another person, and the way we look at the physical discipline of children. It is unlawful to slap another person's face, but not unlawful to do the same to your child.

And the concept of 'rights' as a parent also seems to have some relevance here. A parent has a right, indeed a responsibility to discipline or chastise a child. But that same person has no such right to touch another person, if that touching falls within the legal definition of 'assault'

There is also concern that the rights of the state should not override the rights of parents. And there is concern that good parents who occasionally smack their children, without causing long term physical or emotional harm, might be "criminalised".

It is not my role, nor indeed my place, to become involved in the political debate surrounding section 59. What I can talk about - with knowledge and passion - is the impact on individuals, families, and communities further down the track, when children are physically assaulted.

So what do we know about child abuse in this country?

Statistics abound, but we know that it's prolific, and horrifying. In 1999, according to a recent newspaper article, CYFS recorded about 2300 confirmed cases of physical abuse, from ten times that number of notifications.

On average, nine children are beaten to death each year.

We also know that the line between physical punishment and serious assault is so subjective, so blurred, that really it does not exist. And if the distinguishing feature is the degree of self-control of the parent, because we all know that loving parents can be driven to anger by their children, then the defence that 'I didn't mean any harm' would allow much that should be called 'assault' rather than 'punishment' to continue.

And even more horrifying are those parents who have a deliberate strategy of punishing their children physically as a misguided form of discipline - they include people from violent backgrounds as well as those who completely misinterpret Christian teaching. The motive may be pure, but the outcome will be the same for the child - emotional and physical harm and a sharply reduced trust of those who should be the most trusted and loving adults in the child's world.

When those tragic child death cases come to the courts, we begin to comprehend the extent to which the boundaries between punishment and assault are blurred. None of us will ever forget little James Whakaruru, who, at the age of four, was disciplined to death by his stepfather. Staff at Auckland's Starship Hospital say that "a fair percentage" of children who turn up bruised, have been punished in some way.

And there are many parents and guardians who simply follow the child rearing methods of their childhoods, forgetting the terror and the pain of physical punishment of a small human being by a much larger one. I recall vividly a man known to dote on his children who nonetheless punished them with a heavy metal studded belt, and who in Court said īthat was they way I was brought up, and it never did me any harm'. He was oblivious to the irony of his words.

And of course, if you are 18 months old and can't speak yet, no-one really knows whether your misbehaviour was so calculated, so deviant to warrant the bruising and internal injuries visited upon you as "punishment." Yet if you were an adult, no matter how deviant your behaviour you cannot be 'punished' by another in such a way without the intervention of the law. And we can guess - even if the child cannot speak for himself, no 18 month old child could possibly 'deserve' a brutal physical assault.

What is the impact of child abuse on families and communities?

We know that violence begets violence. Many of today's violent offenders have been exposed to violence since the day they were born. It was truly depressing, when sentencing such offenders, to look into the deadened eyes of people who could not comprehend any other way of life. These are not people who are coping well with life's ups and downs. Yet we allow them the right to decide how much force is reasonable and intervene only if the child comes to the attention of the authorities, usually when he or she is already damaged.

I knew many of these offenders would come to the attention of the Courts again. And I despaired for their victims of the future. If they survived, many of them would also be destined eventually to appear before the Courts as violent offenders themselves.

As the Commissioner for Children, Roger McClay, has said:

"You can only knock trouble into children. You cannot knock it out of them. Nor can you knock goodness into them."

Communities bear the many costs of child abuse, and the cycle of violence that it breeds. Research shows that abused children are more likely to attempt suicide, take drugs, abuse alcohol and commit crime.

Unsafe streets, fear, higher policing costs, and mending the broken bones at the end. Untapped human potential, shortened lives, shattered families.

So how do we address this in society, and in the courts? I will address the second part of the question first.

My time as a District and High Court judge gave me an insight into the shocking levels of violence in New Zealand society. My position was at the bottom of the cliff - next to the ambulance that took away the victims of violence, often children.

Attempting to reflect society's abhorrence of such crime by sentencing the perpetrators to punishments befitting of their actions, may seem to be one answer, but judges know that a sentence of imprisonment is not a solution to violent offending - it may keep the community safe, but it will not modify the violent behaviour. Prison is itself a violent environment, and lessons of peace and moderation will not be learned there.

But Courts can only reflect the views of their society. The laws that set prosecution, conviction and sentencing guidelines are the fruit of the will of a nation.

And it must be said that many jurors may find it difficult to pass a guilty sentence on a parent who has harmed a child through discipline. Perhaps they feel they cannot pass judgment on another adult, when they themselves have been guilty of physically punishing their own children - or at the least, having been sorely tempted to do so.

All this suggests that, as a nation, we need candidly and honestly to search our souls about all acts of violence, and the way we deal with each other. We must ask ourselves whether the right to smack children is so precious a right, so necessary to parenting, that we are willing to sacrifice the James Whakarurus, the Lillybings, and the many, many children who are assaulted in the name, or using the excuse of discipline, and who survive.

Once we make that decision we must throw our efforts into reversing the terrible child abuse that takes place here.

We must support preventative strategies, such as Keeping Ourselves Safe, Kia Kaha and Te Rito, the New Zealand Family Violence Prevention Strategy. These programmes show New Zealanders of all ages that there are alternatives to violence in dealing with life's challenges.

And we must examine our laws to see whether they are capable of delivering a society which is safe for all children.

But we must start in our homes, declaring them to be violence free zones. From such small beginnings greater things may grow, and at least the children living in those homes and those visiting them will be safe, and will have learned a valuable lesson for adulthood.

I will finish by reflecting on a report I read recently. Sweden, which has a population about three times our own, banned corporal punishment in homes in 1979. Between 1979 and 1999, Sweden had four child abuse deaths. We had about 180 during the same period.

I applaud all of you working in the field of children's health for your continued commitment to eliminating violence perpetrated against our youngest citizens.

Kia ora koutou katoa.