It's Not About Smacking

Now that the immediate furore has died down, I have an opinion I want to express.

On such a fraught issue, I probably need to lay down my cards, face up. Yes, I have smacked my daughter. I can remember each occasion individually, and count them on the fingers of one hand. She is now nine, which I regard as too old for that sort of thing. I haven’t smacked her for probably a couple of years, now, and never will again.

Yet I am still very, very angry about the “anti-smacking bill” even though I don’t feel it will ever apply to me again...

Nor ever did, for that matter. My anger has nothing to do with smacking, in fact. And this is the point which undeniably intelligent commentators, from Nigel Latta to the Prime Minister himself, seem unable to grasp.

What angers me – renders me apoplectic with rage, actually – is the overweening hubris of a democratically elected government passing a law which they know for certain – from numerous large polls – is adamantly opposed by about 80% of the electorate.

Here’s the thing: Unless we suppose that Sue Bradford, the bill’s sponsor, has some private direct line to god (any god), then her opinion of the need for such a bill amounts to only that: her opinion. By proposing and, with her cronies, passing, the bill, she/they were effectively acting out a belief that their opinions have more value than ours.

Even assuming her view is “correct” in some sense – and I believe it probably is – rather than attempting to educate the electorate, and persuade us around to her point of view, she simply imposed her will, because she could. That kind of dictatorial left-wing social engineering has got a name.

Well, that government’s gone, now, and good riddance.

But, we’re still left with the law.

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