Are we defending vulnerable children – or consuming their humiliation?
By Dr. Leahcim Semaj
Transformational Psychologist
My recent article, “The Child Had an Accident. Why Did Jamaica Need the Details?”, stimulated some discussion. Many readers understood the distinction I was making. The alleged conduct of the adults required investigation. The child’s humiliation did not require national distribution. Those are not contradictory positions.
We can demand accountability while protecting the person who was harmed. We can expose wrongdoing without exposing the victim. Yet, in our increasingly content-driven culture, that distinction is becoming dangerously blurred. A child experiences something frightening, painful or embarrassing. Within hours, the story is on radio, television, Instagram, Facebook, TikTok and WhatsApp. Adults debate it. Commentators analyse it. Strangers express outrage. Some make jokes. Others speculate about details they do not know.
Everybody gets something from the story. The media house gets attention. The social-media page gets engagement. The commentator gets content. The public gets something new to discuss. But what does the child get?
Embarrassment Travels Faster Than Achievement
A child may win a scholarship, excel in mathematics, write a poem, help an elderly neighbour or represent Jamaica with distinction – and the story may struggle to attract attention. Let that same child experience a humiliating incident, however, and suddenly everybody wants to know. Why? Part of the answer may be found in human psychology. We are naturally alert to danger, conflict and unusual events. Negative information often captures our attention more quickly than ordinary good news. It interrupts us.
But media platforms have learnt how to exploit that tendency. Embarrassment generates curiosity. Conflict generates comments. Humiliation encourages sharing. The more emotionally charged the detail, the more likely people are to stop scrolling. What we repeatedly click on, the platforms repeatedly feed us. Eventually, the question is no longer, “Is this important?” It becomes, “Will this perform?” A child’s distress is then converted into a product – packaged, promoted and distributed to attract an audience. We should find that deeply troubling. I do.
Sharing Can Become Participation
Many people believe that because they did not create the story, they bear no responsibility for its impact.
“I only forwarded it.”
“I was simply making people aware.”
“I shared it because the school must be held accountable.”
Perhaps. But every share extends the life and reach of the child’s humiliation. Every forward introduces the story to another group. Every comment pushes it back into the algorithm. Every repost helps transform a painful incident into part of the child’s permanent public identity. We need to understand this clearly: Sharing is not a neutral act. It is participation in distribution.
Your intention may be to express concern, but your action may still contribute to the harm. Before pressing “share,” ask:
Does sharing this particular detail help protect the child?
Will it help prevent another incident?
Is it necessary for accountability?
Or am I passing it on because it is shocking, embarrassing and likely to provoke a reaction? Sometimes we are not defending the child. We are consuming the child’s humiliation while telling ourselves that our outrage makes it morally acceptable.
Expose the Wrongdoing – Not the Victim
There are times when publicity is necessary. Institutions can be defensive. Complaints may be ignored. Parents sometimes go public only after every private channel has failed. Media scrutiny has exposed abuse, neglect and serious failures that might otherwise have remained hidden. This article is not an argument for silence. It is an argument for ethical judgement. The public may need to know that a child was allegedly mistreated. It may need to know what institutional failure occurred, how the authorities responded and what measures are being introduced to prevent a recurrence. But the public does not automatically need every intimate detail.
We can report that a child was denied reasonable access to a restroom without repeatedly describing the humiliating outcome. We can investigate possible bullying without broadcasting the insulting name used against the child. We can report suspected abuse without publishing details that allow classmates and neighbours to identify the victim. The wrongdoing is the story. The victim should not become the spectacle.
Removing the Name Is Not Always Anonymity
Media houses often claim that they have protected a child because they did not publish the child’s name. That may satisfy a technical requirement, but does it provide genuine anonymity? If the report identifies the school, grade, community, teacher, parent or precise circumstances, people close to the situation can quickly determine who the child is. Sometimes the photograph is blurred, but the uniform is visible. Sometimes the name is withheld, but the mother appears on camera. Sometimes the school is not named, but enough details are provided for social media to complete the identification within minutes.
In a small society like Jamaica, identification does not require a name. A few details can be enough. The proper question is not merely: “Did we publish the child’s name?” It is:
“Could the child reasonably be identified by classmates, teachers, neighbours or members of the community?”
If the answer is yes, the child may not have been protected at all.
Adults Are Creating Permanent Records for Children Who Cannot Consent
Today’s children are the first generations whose most painful childhood experiences can be preserved indefinitely by adults. A child cannot fully understand what it means for a story to become searchable. Think back to your childhood, to the incidents that you experienced that are now only faded memories. She cannot meaningfully consent to having an embarrassing incident permanently attached to her developing identity. She does not know how it may feel at 14, 18 or 25 when someone discovers what happened to her in primary school.
The adults around her are making that decision on her behalf. Parents may be acting from anger. Journalists may believe that the public has a right to know. Social-media users may believe they are supporting a just cause. Yet good intentions do not erase consequences.
Children change. They recover. They mature. They develop new identities. The internet, however, has a long memory. A childhood incident that should have lasted a few minutes can become a digital record lasting decades. Children deserve room to grow beyond their worst, most vulnerable or most embarrassing moments. The right to be forgotten should begin in childhood.
The “Best Interest of the Child” Test
Before parents go public, before journalists publish, before schools issue statements and before social-media users share, one question should be asked: Is this in the best interest of the child?
Not:
Will this embarrass the school?
Will this generate public pressure?
Will this attract an audience?
Will this make people angry?
Will this story trend?
The first consideration should be the psychological, social and developmental welfare of the child. A useful best-interest test might include five questions:
Is the detail necessary?
Can the wrongdoing be exposed without describing the child’s humiliation?
Is the child genuinely anonymous?
Could people in the child’s school or community identify her from the information provided?
Could publication create further harm?
Might the child face teasing, bullying, withdrawal, anxiety or reluctance to return to school?
Has the child’s future been considered?
Could this story follow her into adolescence or adulthood?
Who is responsible for the aftermath?
Once the story is published, who will remain to help the child recover?
If these questions cannot be answered satisfactorily, perhaps the story should be changed, delayed or not published at all.
What Psychological Repair Should Look Like
After unwanted publicity, simply telling a child, “Don’t worry about it,” is not enough. Psychological repair begins with restoring safety. The child should hear clearly that the incident was not her fault and does not define who she is. Her feelings – anger, shame, fear or embarrassment – should be acknowledged rather than dismissed.
The school may need to prepare carefully for her return. Teachers should know how to respond without making her the centre of further attention. Classmates may need age-appropriate guidance about kindness, privacy and bullying. If ridicule has already begun, adults must intervene quickly. “Children will be children” is not an acceptable response when a young person’s dignity is at stake.
Parents should also monitor changes in sleep, appetite, school attendance, mood and social behaviour. Persistent withdrawal, anxiety, physical complaints or refusal to attend school may suggest that professional support is needed.
Most importantly, adults should return some control to the child. She has already had control taken away – first during the incident and then again when her story became public property. Let her decide, as far as developmentally possible, who knows, what is discussed and what support feels helpful. Repair is not a press conference. It is quiet, patient work.
The Story Will Pass. The Child Must Continue
Public attention is temporary. Today’s outrage will be replaced by tomorrow’s scandal. The interviews will end. The comments will slow down. The algorithms will move on. But the child must return to school. She must face classmates, walk through her community and continue building a sense of herself. That is why we must resist the temptation to treat children’s pain as public property.
There are enough lessons to go around: Journalists have a duty to report responsibly. Schools have a duty to protect. Parents have a duty to advocate without unnecessarily sacrificing their child’s privacy. And the rest of us have a duty to decide whether pressing “share” will help the child – or merely help the story travel.
The Semaj MindSpa Takeaway
A society reveals its values not only through the wrongdoing it condemns, but through the dignity it preserves while doing so. Yes, expose institutional failures. Yes, demand answers. Yes, protect other children from experiencing the same harm.
But do not make the injured child pay the publicity cost of achieving accountability. A child is not a headline. A child is not an engagement statistic. A child is not material for tomorrow morning’s discussion.
A child is not content.
Before you publish, comment or share, ask: Are we defending this vulnerable child – or consuming her humiliation?