Care of obese children
by Simon Longstaff
Of all the occasions when government intrudes into the lives of its citizens, few could be more significant than the removal of a child from the family home. Yet, we recognise that there are occasions when to do so becomes a matter of dire necessity; for failure to intervene would expose the child to the gravest risk of abuse. Gross physical violence, sexual predation, profound neglect – these are the usual cues for intervention.
So, consider the case of Connor McCreaddie – an eight-year-old English boy who weighs almost 100 kilograms. It has been widely reported that Connor has grown immense on a diet of junk food. His mother loves him dearly and would never deliberately do anything to cause harm to her child. Yet, for a moment, the authorities in Britain considered removing Connor from his home – suggesting that his morbid obesity should be considered the product of a kind of child abuse.
Since then, controversy has swirled around the North Tyneside home of Connor and his family. On the one hand are those who think that this case marks a dangerous escalation in government power to define the bounds of what should be regarded as ‘acceptable parenting’. On the other hand are those who think that the rights of parents are not absolute – but qualified by a duty of care owed to their relatively vulnerable children.
On one point all seem to be agreed – as medical opinion confirms, Connor’s poor diet and weight represent a significant risk to his health. So, how ought society respond?
An initial way of looking at this case is to consider the relative status of families and their individual members. In some traditions, the family takes precedence over that of any single person. Even where children are deeply loved and carefully nurtured, they may be regarded as having only a secondary (or derivative) significance within the family context.
An extreme example can be seen in so called ‘honour’ killings – where a young woman who has broken sexual taboos will be killed by her male relatives (father, brothers, uncles) for having brought ‘dishonour’ on the family. Those doing the killing will often claim, in all sincerity, to love the daughter they destroy. However, destroy her they will – for the sake of something more important than her individual life: the reputation of the family. For people such as this, it would seem quite incredible that any government should think it right to interfere in the rearing of a child.
I suspect that most Australians would not only reject the practice of ‘honour killings’ but find the very idea of it to be incredible. Instead, there would be an almost intuitive concern for the rights of the individual – a belief that groups (even families) can only go so far before they cross a line and deprive the individual of their legitimate rights – such as the right to life.
That so many Australians would think this way is not just a reflection of the law – which does much to define and defend individual rights. A deeper principle is at work; one that arrived with the First Fleet, only to be set aside in our dealings with Indigenous people – and a host of others. For, with European settlement came the idea that every human being is intrinsically valuable – irrespective of their gender, age, colour or creed. It is the concept of ‘respect for persons’ that underpins most attempts to balance the rights of individuals with those of groups – whether those groups are families, companies or whole societies.
It is this principle that makes it possible to think that removing Connor McCreaddie from his family home might be a legitimate course of action.
Like many others in society, an eight-year-old boy is relatively vulnerable. However, by virtue of his intrinsic dignity, the child should be able to count on the protection of society’s stronger members. In normal circumstances, the task of protecting Connor would be taken up by his family. However, in this case, there is evidence that Connor’s family was not up to the task. His mother has said that she simply does not know how to deal with his voracious appetite. It is not that she has set out to make him obese. It is just that she has not the knowledge, skill or understanding to prevent this from occurring.
This gives rise to a critical observation. Not only do parents have a duty not to cause harm, there is an additional obligation to protect their children. That is why there can be such a tragic dimension to child-protection issues. In some cases, otherwise loving and attentive parents lose their capacity to care for their children – sometimes through accident, sometimes from the debilitation caused by addiction, and so on.
The abuse of the vulnerable, including children, need not be intentional. Abuse is often an objective condition resulting from neglect or incompetence. So, apart from anything else, parents need to have a basic level of competence if they are to meet society’s expectations for the protection and care of vulnerable children. Where the required level of competence is lacking and unlikely to be achieved, then the community may have no option but to step in.
But who is to decide what makes for a competent parent? What exactly is a ‘risk’ (eating the wrong kinds of food, holding the wrong kinds of belief)? Do we seek only to protect the bodies of children? What of their minds and souls? What is worse – being brought up obese or reared as a racist? Is either outcome ‘bad’ enough to justify intervention by the community? Who pays the ultimate price for parental ‘mistakes’? In any case, who decides? These are not trivial questions – and deserve closer attention than is possible here.
There are cases when love, alone, may not be enough. That said, the love shared by a parent and child is elemental and, with few exceptions, it is a powerful force for good. Connor’s mother may not yet know how to regulate his eating so that he is safe from the medical risks of morbid obesity. However, it does not mean that his family is beyond learning the necessary skills – if provided with adequate support.
Society has a legitimate interest in Connor’s welfare. However, I think that his best interests include remaining at home with a family he loves – and who love him. Connor’s family is in difficulty – facing a problem most likely shared by others. Before even considering removing Connor from his home, those in authority should exhaust all opportunities to help this family to stay together in good health.
Dr Simon Longstaff is Executive Director of St James Ethics Centre.
A version of this article was first published in The Sunday Age on 15 April 2007.
© St James Ethics Centre
