In Trouble, Public Reaction and Reflections on Family Violence
A recent incident sent shockwaves through a community. The writer, not accompanied by a companion, allowed the experience to unfold publicly. It began with a pleasant day in the resort town of Zelenogorsk spent with a daughter: one hour by train, pine-scented air, sand, and sea along the Baltic coast, where the crowns of trees stood like quiet witnesses. Everything seemed fine until, at journey’s end, a station scene revealed a tormentor striking two children with apparent delight. The writer filed a report, contacted the police, and documented the events online. Now, nearly a week later, hundreds of messages arrive, filled with anger, hostility, and a raw, animal anger. Terms like “Creature!” and accusations about violence overshadowed the initial concern that had prompted action.
There are gentler replies too: questions about what occurred at the scene, speculation that the children might have been upset, or that reconciliation could have happened in minutes if the authorities had not intervened. Some suggest the children might have experienced danger or distress in ways not yet understood. Some readers even express retrospective gratitude toward the writer’s own family history, remarking that punishment in childhood shaped character. The comments reflect a spectrum of opinions about how society should respond to misbehavior and discipline, and about how much weight is given to parental authority versus child welfare.
The author recognizes that patriarchal habits and desires are still pervasive, and acknowledges the stubborn endurance of certain social patterns. Yet there was a belief that the issue lay primarily in public perception, not in the depth of the problem itself. The writer has spent years composing columns and maintaining a blog, informing people about socially meaningful events in literature and art. The expectation had been that the audience would be more engaged with thoughtful analysis than with sensational tabloids; still, long-form readings about writers like Proust require education and patience, often cultivated within university walls.
However, it became clear that readers who appreciate foreign press reviews and art cinema were often the ones least likely to condone violence at home. Some expressed concern that calls to defend family privacy could mask a broader unwillingness to confront harsh realities. The concern was not simply about a single incident but about a persistent tendency that seems attached to social norms surrounding punishment, power, and control.
In historical terms, the issue is not purely personal. It reflects remnants of social hierarchies where the head of a family could impose harsh discipline on those beneath, sometimes with dire consequences. Over centuries, societies evolved through feudal structures, industrial changes, and emerging forms of commerce and capital, yet the impulse to regulate others’ lives within the family persisted. A sense that some adults possess an absolute right to direct the lives of children and spouses has lingered. The world appeared to advance, but a certain fear of losing control remained constant.
From the outside, it could seem that there are sacred boundaries in families that allow harsh treatment to occur without challenge. Yet the scene at the resort town station made it clear that in such households, children may endure repeated harm while others look the other way. The mother in such narratives may react with extraordinary emotion, becoming outwardly uncontained in public spaces. There are rooms where no family secret remains hidden, and in crowded places, the violence faced by children demands intervention. Children need protection, and bystanders often recognize this.
Recently, some voices—allied with certain intellectual traditions—argue for keeping family life intact, even amid allegations of abuse. They desire thick walls to shield problematic dynamics and to allow those in distress to endure without external scrutiny. They argue that rights born at birth can be exercised to protect a family’s privacy, while simultaneously nurturing a culture that condones harm disguised as discipline. The writer had known that many in the nation hold such views, but the scale of the problem proved larger than expected. Widespread awareness of parental authority and the consequences of corporal punishment has long been acknowledged in some circles, yet meaningful change remains elusive. The belief that the right to express anger toward the weak is not sacred, but rather a social norm, remains stubbornly entrenched.
Having a child is not solely a motive to love; at times it seems to bring forth a demand to be needed. An analogy emerges with animal herds: among goats, a hierarchy forms where a strong member disciplines others, and the weaker ones suffer the consequences. If the weakest goat lacks offspring or the power to defend itself, anxiety and fear grow. The image becomes unsettling as the cycle of intimidation continues. The question remains: is this pattern simply accepted, or can it be challenged?
In Russia, the practice of corporal punishment is sometimes described as a form of psychotherapy. When people hesitate to interfere with other families, it signals fear that losing the right to express anger could provoke a crisis of identity. Some feel the need to assert control over the lives of their children, longing for a sense of mastery that steadies a troubled existence. Old adages about parental authority persist, and the urge to dominate remains a deeply rooted impulse in societal structures. Many who defend this stance also contend with their own difficult experiences, seeking to justify a pattern of behavior through cultural narratives about duty and resilience.
What is shared is a long memory of discipline in childhood. The idea that personal suffering must be endured to preserve order influences people to perpetuate cycles of punishment. Even as others recognize the harm, resistance to systemic change remains. Protests against juvenile justice often attract participants who feel overwhelmed by life’s pressures and who seek simple, visible acts of control. They may carry a belt, raise a fist, and feel momentarily powerful, only to resume daily routines in crowded public spaces, enduring subduing workdays.
It is not surprising that violence within families coexists with violence in public life. In many cases, it arises where both parents struggle with stress, substance use, or economic strain. In such environments, mothers may bear the brunt of responsibility and face social scrutiny, sometimes facing lower earnings and limited autonomy. The cycle continues as individuals seek to assert authority by any means available, often projecting fear onto the most vulnerable members of the family.
Years ago, a personal memory of childhood cruelty emerged, when five-year-old resilience met the pressure of a beating. The recollection sparked intense reactions from readers who reframe the event, sometimes recounting it as if an adult wounded an elderly relative, rather than a child protecting themselves. The nuance shifts when the ages and relationships change; still, the core issue remains: the harm inflicted on a child is a serious matter deserving consideration and action.
The ongoing discussion highlights how society weighs the right to discipline against the obligation to protect. The public response over the years has varied—from outrage to sympathy to silence. The central question endures: how can communities guard the welfare of children while addressing adults’ burdens in ways that do not perpetuate harm? The pieces above reflect a long-running concern about how to balance respect for family privacy with the imperative to safeguard vulnerable lives. Readers are reminded that children deserve safety, dignity, and a chance to grow without fear of harm.
The writer’s perspective is presented as personal commentary for readers to consider, and it may not align with editors’ positions.