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The Association of Child Protection Professionals

A fresh start for an inspiring association

Forty years ago, a small group of leading child protection professionals and academics came together to found BASPCAN, the British Association for the Study and Prevention of Child Abuse and Neglect. Their aims were to provide education and professional development opportunities for those working in the child protection field, and to educate and inform the public about safeguarding. For most of this time, the official journal of BASPCAN, Child Abuse Review, has been central to achieving these aims.

Now, with this first issue of 2019, we are launching a new look for the Association (now the Association of Child Protection Professionals) and for the journal. In an accompanying news piece, Celean Camp and Wendy Thorogood explain a bit more about the changes for the Association and some of the exciting developments that we can look forward to. As they point out,

‘Our name might have changed but our aims remain the same – working with members to:

  • Promote increased understanding of the causes, ways of identifying and reducing the incidence of child abuse and neglect.
  • Encourage a greater understanding of the consequences for children of abuse and neglect and how these can be prevented and treated.
  • Improve cooperation and liaison between professionals and agencies locally, nationally and internationally.
  • Influence policy and practice based on high‐quality research evidence and practitioner experience.
  • Represent, support and advocate for child protection professionals.’

I encourage you all to take a look at our brand-new website and to consider joining the association – you will find a great community of people passionately committed to promoting the welfare and safety of children, and supporting each other in this highly-charged field.

From the perspective of the journal, we want to ensure that Child Abuse Review continues to contribute to those enduring aims of providing education and professional development for all those working in the child protection field, through publishing rigorous original research, comprehensive reviews of the scientific literature, book reviews and training updates, and commentaries on policy and practice.

With this first issue of 2019, we are also launching our brand new Continuing Professional Development (CPD) section. These papers are intended to distil the essentials of what practitioners/clinicians need to know about a particular area of practice. They should help practitioners review and reflect on what they have learnt and may be used to provide evidence for the purposes of professional revalidation or accreditation. Our first paper in this new section is from Wendy Marsh and Jan Leamon and explores the issues faced by mothers who have their babies removed at birth. The authors take a sensitive and compassionate approach to exploring the complex grief experienced by mothers in this situation and some of the coping strategies that these mothers can resort to – not all of which will necessarily sit well with professionals whose primary aim is to safeguard the wellbeing of children. As professionals in the child protection field, we will continue to be faced with situations where the removal of a child is necessary. Nevertheless, Marsh and Leamon’s paper provides compelling arguments for the importance of understanding what mothers in this situation are going through, and our moral and ethical responsibility to support mothers after the removal of a child.

 

All the papers in this first issue of the year for Child Abuse Review are freely available to read or download. Do click on the links below to browse the issue or to read my editorial or any of the papers.

 

Child Abuse Review Volume 28, Issue 1

Table of Contents

Peter Sidebotham. Challenging Belief Systems and Professional Perspectives to Protect Children from Harm

Celean Camp, Wendy Thorogood. The Association of Child Protection Professionals: Moving Forward with a New Identity

Julie Taylor, Caroline Bradbury-Jones, Patricia Lund. Witchcraft‐related Abuse and Murder of Children with Albinism in Sub‐Saharan Africa: A Conceptual Review

Lisa Oakley, Kathryn Kinmond, Justin Humphreys, Mor Dioum. Safeguarding Children who are Exposed to Abuse Linked to Faith or Belief

Jessica Wagner, Steph Jones, Anna Tsaroucha, Holly Cumbers. Intergenerational Transmission of Domestic Violence: Practitioners’ Perceptions and Experiences of Working with Adult Victims and Perpetrators in the UK

Jeff Moore, Marie Flynn, Mark Morgan. Social Ecological Resilience and Mental Wellbeing of Irish Emigrant Survivors of Clerical Institutional Childhood Abuse

Karen Hanson, Elizabeth Duryea, Mary Painter, Jeffrey Vanderploeg, Dale Saul. Family‐Based Recovery: An Innovative Collaboration between Community Mental Health Agencies and Child Protective Services to Treat Families Impacted by Parental Substance Use

Wendy Marsh, Jan Leamon. Babies Removed at Birth: What Professionals Can Learn From ‘Women Like Me’

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Silence in the wilderness

Wadi Rum

The 40 days of Lent are typically a time to reflect on Jesus’ 40 days being tempted in the wilderness, and the Israelites’ 40 years wandering through the wilderness on their way to the Promised Land. So it seemed somewhat appropriate that on the second day of Lent, Lois and I headed south from Amman to the desert wilderness of Wadi Rum in Jordan.

It may not have been 40 days, let alone 40 years, that we spent there, but we did manage a bit over 40 hours taking in the wild majesty of that place.

How does one convey the wonder of such a place? It was unlike anywhere I have ever been before. The barren, thirsty land of rocks and sand; the huge, towering landscapes of weathered rocky outcrops; the deep, shadowed canyons; the unexpected fields of purple and white flowers; the seemingly lifeless shrubs and trees that nevertheless sprout green shoots; the wandering flocks of sheep and goats; the Bedouin tents defiantly holding forth against the harsh and bitter terrain; the muted palette of ochre, sienna, russet and olive; the vast and vibrant blueness of the sky; the symphony of stars dancing through the heavens …

For me there was something deeply emotional about being there. At times I felt quite overwhelmed by it all: to be present, in complete, deep silence, surrounded by such timeless grandeur, within which my own life seems but a momentary speck of dust. As I sat on a rock in the early dawn light, I felt I had no choice but to be silent myself.

Let all mortal flesh keep silence…

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Sajid Javed and Shamima Begum: The courage to act with compassion

Over the past few days I have found myself increasingly troubled by the case of Shamima Begum – the young British mother wanting to return to the UK with her baby after fleeing the country as a teenager in 2015 to join Islamic State in Syria.

Yesterday the Home Secretary, Sajid Javed, ordered that she be deprived of British citizenship and barred from returning to the UK.

 

 

I am concerned that this decision has arisen from a background of fear. In taking this step, I feel that the Home Secretary is:

  • ignoring the nature of the grooming and exploitation process that underlies radicalisation;
  • trying to tackle an organisation that tramples on human rights by further abusing the rights of an individual; and that
  • rather than protecting the British public, this measure could ultimately escalate both fear and resentment.

In view of this, I have written this letter to the Home Secretary.

To act with compassion requires courage, but is the only way to tackle the hatred and violence that IS embodies.

Do you agree?

 

Rt Hon Sajid Javed MP

Secretary of State for the Home Department

 

Dear Mr Javed,

I am writing to express my concern over the decision you have made to deprive Ms Shamima Begum of her British Citizenship.

While I appreciate your responsibility, as Home Secretary, to protect all British citizens, I do not agree that this step is either necessary or appropriate to do so. Furthermore, by taking this step, you are potentially depriving Ms Begum and her baby of one of the most fundamental human rights, that of having a home and a country.

When Ms Begum left London in 2015, along with her friends Kadiza Sultana and Amira Abase, they were all three children and, as I am sure you will acknowledge, were victims of the grooming and exploitation that lies beneath any radicalisation. As a paediatrician and specialist in child protection, I have come across many cases of children and young people who have been subject to all forms of criminal exploitation, including radicalisation. What is clear from these is the very insidious nature of the grooming process and how many of these young people just do not recognise that they are victims of exploitation. These issues were clearly identified in the 2017 Serious Case Review on siblings W and X published by Brighton and Hove Local Safeguarding Children Board and in Mr Justice Hayden’s judgement in London Borough of Tower Hamlets v B [2016] EWHC 1707 (Fam).

The government’s own Prevent strategy and Channel guidance recognise that the process of radicalisation is a complex phenomenon with many similarities to child sexual exploitation and to criminal exploitation in gang membership and county lines. Whether or not Ms Begum recognised it, she was a victim of exploitation. I have no doubt that the processes of grooming and exploitation have continued over the years she has spent with Islamic State in Syria.

In revoking her citizenship and thus denying her the support and care of her family, I believe you are taking the step of punishing the victim, rather than addressing the deeper root causes of radicalisation which led to her taking that step in the first place. This step will do nothing to make the British public safer.

Rather than taking punitive action against a vulnerable young mother and her child, surely, as a free, democratic and humane society, we should respect her individual rights, recognise the reality of the exploitation to which she has been subjected, and offer the compassion due to a mother who has already suffered the loss of two of her children.

By allowing Ms Begum to return to the UK with her child, the way is then open for a full and fair investigation into both the nature of the exploitation to which she was subjected before leaving this country and into any crimes that she may have committed and any potential threat she may now pose to the British people, following due process of the law of our country. That way we also open the possibility for Ms Begum herself to change, to learn from her experience, and potentially to take more effective steps to prevent other young people being exploited in this way.

 

Yours sincerely

Peter Sidebotham

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Psalm 2019

Praise to you

Lord God of all creation

 

 

 

 

Praise for the beauty of your world

Praise for the delight of sun dancing on snow

Sparkling crystals and pure, clean white

Praise for the feeling of muscles stretched

Of purposeful strides and gentle ambles

Praise for the quiet stream and the steadfast bridge

Praise for the woodland garth

For lives well lived and lovingly remembered

For roots and trunks, branches and leaves

Praise for snowdrops springing forth

For new life, beauty,

Tenderness and tears.

 

Praise to you

Lord God of celebration

Praise for laughter

For hugs and moments shared

Praise for warming soup and wholesome bread

For feasts and banquets

For bright and sumptuous wines

Praise for music, melody and song

For symphonies and harmonies

For depths and summits scaled.

 

Praise to you

Lord God of all fulfilment

For purpose, meaning, substance

For service, gifts and skills

For science and discovery

For patterns taking shape

For art and creativity

For colours, movements, form.

 

Praise to you

The source of all

The goal of all my longings.

 

Praise to you

Lord Jesus Christ

Father, Spirit, Son

Creator and Sustainer

Great Mother, Gentle One.

 

 

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One does not simply walk into Mordor

 

‘One does not simply walk into Mordor… It is a barren wasteland, riddled with fire, ash, and dust…’ – Boromir, Lord of the Rings

 

 

Sadly, Lois and I had to take heed of Boromir’s words. A nasty chest infection, picked up in Laos, meant that we had to cancel our planned four day tramp around Ngaurohoe (Mt Doom) with Abi, Isaac, and Isaac’s parents.

It had all started ten days previously while we were staying with Trim and Konnie and their children in Vientiane. First Alex, then Lois, Finn and Sienna, then Konnie and I, and finally Trim, all started toppling, like dominoes, with various combinations of cough, fever, rigors, neck stiffness, and general aches and pains. We had planned to spend a nice weekend together at a lake resort north of the capital, but when it came to it, none of us felt like doing anything other than lying prostrate on our beds or the sofa. We struggled through a week before Lois and I boarded a plane for one of the most uncomfortable journeys we have ever experienced: 24 hours feeling cramped, uncomfortable and drained of all energy.

It’s funny how feeling unwell can so dominate life: when with each cough, it seems as though every bone in your body, every muscle, every patch of skin is screaming at you, ‘Get it out!’ When to even read, let alone be sociable, write emails, or make decisions, becomes more than you can face. When you can’t think of anyone or anything else, but just how awful you are feeling.

So, I don’t think we were particularly good company when we got to Auckland – either for each other, or for David and Paddy with whom we were staying, or the grandchildren who had been so longing to see us!

Still, while such illnesses may drag on, they do not last indefinitely. Gradually, after a couple of weeks feeling at rock bottom, the fevers subsided, the neck stiffness eased, and the coughs became less all-pervasive. And we began again to appreciate the many blessings of life – to recognise, with gratitude, how incredibly healthy we have both been; and to gain a greater sense of empathy with those for whom chronic pain or illness is a daily part of life.

We had ducked out of the four day Northern Circuit, but after a further 24 hours recuperating in Auckland, we decided to head south to the National Park, checking into a cheap, but convenient motel in Tokanuu on the shores of Lake Taupo.

By Thursday, I was feeling well enough to do a one day tramp. We drove up to the Magetepopo car park (a bit higher than the summit of Snowdon which we’d climbed earlier in the year), and – along with countless other trampers – Lois and I set out on the Tongariro Alpine Crossing. Lois joined me for the first 5km up to the Soda Springs then headed back to the car and a more restful day while I started the steep ascent to the Tongariro craters. The North Island Alpine scenery is really quite staggering: steep volcanic slopes, broad, ash-covered craters, rugged ridges and outcrops of rock.

After the first steep ascent to the South Crater, the vegetation grew increasingly sparse, but even right up at the top, it was incredible how small yellow and white alpine flowers could bloom into life among the barren, lifeless rock. As each successive ridge appeared above me I thought that surely would be the last, only to have my illusions shattered as I recognised the figures of fellow trampers ascending the next ridge above. Eventually, however, I got to the summit of the Red Crater at 1,886m. This was followed by a treacherous scramble down the scoria slopes to the stunning Emerald Lakes. My knees were feeling it by then, but at the same time, I was revelling in the overwhelming sense of being truly alive. The views were amazing. For most of the day, Ngaurahoe was shrouded in cloud, but at one point, I did catch a passing glimpse of its cratered summit.

 

Bypassing most of the hordes, I made my way to the furthest of the Emerald Lakes where I sat and enjoyed my sandwiches, taking in the rich, vibrant colours of the water and the rocks. A final short climb brought me up to the larger Blue Lake, by now almost completely in the clouds, but still beautiful and mysterious. And then a long, but pleasingly gentle 8km tramp down the lower slopes of Tongariro to the Ketetahi car park, where Lois was waiting to take me back to our motel and a relaxing soak in their thermal pool.

The following day, after a short walk towards the Silica Rapids, we set out from Whakapapa anti-clockwise to meet the others as they finished their four day tramp: tired and aching, but with a huge sense of achievement. One doesn’t simply walk into Mordor after all.

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Laos: Adventures in a land of serenity III

Caving and Kayaking in Vang Vieng

 

It was dark. Very dark. So dark it was impossible to distinguish between having your eyes open and having them closed. And it was quiet. Not a sound in the still air apart from the odd drop of water from a stalactite and the occasional little rustle as one of us shifted to a more comfortable position. We were sitting on a rock deep in a limestone cave some 20 km north of Vang Vieng – Lois and I, a German fellow-tourist, and our Lao guide. And we had switched off our head torches for a while to take in the awesome silence and stillness of the underworld.

I don’t think I have ever experienced such total darkness and silence. It was awesome. And, surprisingly, not at all oppressive. There was a certain peace and majesty in it – something that touched beyond time, beyond the frantic busyness of the world outside. We were perhaps half a kilometre deep in the mountain and all was still and unchanging. And yet, at the same time, it was changing – imperceptibly, gently, one water drop at a time – the stalactites were growing, changing, forming their wonderful, mysterious shapes in the darkness.

Our one day ‘Discover Vang Vieng’ excursion with Green Discovery was proving to be a good choice of activity – the ‘trekking’ was, in fact, a very gentle amble round to the caves and then past a Hmong Village. But that suited us well, as Lois was struggling with a nasty chest infection while I, unbeknown at the time, was brewing my own mystery fever. We visited three caves – one great tortuous cavern filled with stalactites and stalagmites; a second smaller tunnel into the rock which apparently was used by local villagers to provide a route through to the other side of the outcrop and fresh fishing grounds; and a third, flooded cave which we entered in large rubber tubes. As we first got into them, the water, coming straight out of the cave, was cold. But we soon got used to it, and enjoyed the experience pulling ourselves along with a rope into the low-ceilinged darkness.

Outside, the sky was clear and blue as the sun beat down on dry, harvested rice paddies. Water buffaloes wallowed in mud patches, and villagers scooped water from irrigation channels onto their vegetable plots. A profusion of butterflies of exotic shapes and colours fluttered by. And ever over us, the limestone karst hills towered, carrying their own sense of mystery and grandeur.

After a half hour amble along a water course, we were picked up by our tuk tuk and transported to a launching place 10km up river from Vang Vieng. A gentle kayak down the Nam Song in the shade of the limestone hills brought us slowly back to the town. Ignoring the fleets of mad Korean tourists, shouting and splashing from their kayaks, and the riverside rave bars for the young Western backpackers as they went tubing down the river, we simply enjoyed our own leisurely pace, speeding in places over shallow rapids, then drifting slowly down in the deeper stretches, all the while taking in the beauty and peace of this land of serenity, to arrive an hour or two later beside the main bridge in Vang Vieng, pleasantly tired and ready for a refreshing iced tea and a shower.

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Laos: Adventures in a land of serenity II

Vientiane to Vang Vieng

 

It may not be big population-wise, but Vientiane does seem to spread out – its buildings sprawling out many kilometres along the road North to Vang Vieng. In true Asian style the shop fronts spilled out onto the streets with their varied merchandise of all manner of plastic goods, electrical goods, rattan goods, and textiles. And with vividly coloured Buddhas, elephants, storks and stupas with which to decorate your garden, office or temple.

The minibus was packed with tourists like us. And clearly not made with tall foreign site-seers in mind. So, sitting at the back we had only a limited view of the roadsides as we drove past. But they did gradually give way to more rural scenes of paddy fields, coconut palms and the occasional wallowing buffalo. After a quick lunch break (“we stop here 17 minutes”) of grilled pork and sticky rice, we left the flat Mekong plain and started to climb into the wooded hills of central Laos (our driver at this point told us all to put our seatbelts on (protection in case we didn’t manage to stay on the winding road?) The road here did become even worse with just short stretches of pot-holed tarmac interspersed with ungraded gravel and dust – I don’t think they were ever made to cope with the volume of traffic or the impact of each year’s rainy season. The little glimpses we caught of the scenery though were promising, and eventually after five hours and 157km we rolled into the backpackers’ Mecca of Vang Vieng.

A few years ago, the influx of young Western backpackers had brought Vang Vieng a very bad name, flooding the town with alcohol, drugs and low-quality hostels and bars. Safety standards were appalling and apparently several tourists died on the various adventure activities. The Wikipedia description of the town hardly paints an inspiring picture:

There are concerns that the town is in danger of losing its charm as it becomes full of tourists, mushroom shakes, and episodes of Friends, a US sitcom shown in many bars.[11] The New Zealand Herald wrote, “If teenagers ruled the world, it might resemble Vang Vieng”.[12] Safety measures for the tubing have been described as “non existent”. Tubing combined with heavy drinking has resulted in tourist drownings.[13] It was reported that 22 tourists died on the river in 2011. – Wikipedia

 

The authorities have worked hard to improve its image, so, while still heaving with backpackers and bars, it does have a certain charm, and nothing can really detract from the stunning beauty of the surrounding limestone mountains.

 

 

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Laos: Adventures in a land of serenity

I   Vientiane

 

Staying with Trim and Konnie and their children in their spacious high-ceilinged house tucked away down a little side street not far from the centre of town has provided a gentle introduction to Vientiane. In among the children’s activities and evenings catching up on family news, Lois and I have ventured out a couple of times on Trim and Konnie’s bikes to explore the city and the somnolent banks of the Mekong.

It is a bit like stepping back in time to the Phnom Penh I knew in the early 1990s (minus all the UNTAC Land Cruisers and blue-bereted peace keeping forces). The French influence seems even stronger here and the city comes across as a curious blend of French colonialism, democratic communism, animistic Buddhism, and 21st century backpacker tourism. The most striking and welcome side of this is the profusion of cafés serving wonderfully smooth Lao coffee with fresh-baked croissants or Vietnamese dumplings (whichever takes your fancy).

But what has most surprised me is how calm, gentle and clean the city is. It may be the only one of the world’s least developed countries situated in S.E. Asia, and still ranking very low on life expectancy and GDP, but there is very little in the way of overt poverty. Unlike so many Asian cities, Vientiane seems to have avoided the gross extremes of opulence and destitution dwelling side by side. We have not seen any areas of slum dwellings, no beggars have been wandering the streets or pestering us for change, no children tapping on your car windows as you wait at traffic lights. Is this socialism as it should work I wonder?

And, it seems too, to have avoided – so far – the frantic noisy chaos of cars, motorbikes pedestrians and trucks that characterise Bangkok, Delhi, Manila, or the technological efficiency and relentless drive of Hong Kong and Singapore. The residents may complain of the traffic, but it hs none of the clamour, noise and chaos of the rest of Asia.

So a gentle cycle ride beside the Mekong finishing off with a leisurely cappuccino makes for a wonderful way to spend a lazy afternoon.