Reflect

He was a psychiatrist who was good at accommodating my interest in tough topics, but he never told me what to think. Instead, he asked lots of questions: What would you do? Where would you draw the line? And why there? Is there another way of looking at this?

He nurtured my thinking first, encouraging me to weigh up evidence, consider other perspectives and reach my own conclusions, and only then to reflect on the values I was forming and why I held them. He wasn’t afraid to talk about things on the news or to show his disgust when he saw behaviour he found reprehensible. He was always tutting at the TV in a way that conveyed his sense of right from wrong!

I have thought about the quality of those dinner time conversations a great deal this week. The news and social media feeds have felt relentless, and I have been reflecting on how to talk about it all with my own children, who, unlike me, are growing up with a small computer in their pockets that keeps them up to date on every atrocity, incident and global event.

Three rather graphic news stories have stuck with me. The first is the ‘Cornell 7’ case, which you may well have heard of by now. A young female student has filed a civil lawsuit alleging that she was sexually assaulted by seven fraternity members from Cornell University back in 2024. The local district attorney originally declined to prosecute but, following public outcry, the investigation has been reopened. No criminal charges have been brought yet. However, what has emerged is that, according to her lawyer, 57 young men were in a Snapchat group chat together, reportedly called ‘Chi Phi Actives’. Shortly before 2am, one of them told the group there were ‘free’ opportunities for sex available in the house. Another replied, “Like you can walk in and whip it out.” A third asked, “Shop still open?” The answer came back: “Yea.” A young woman was being described as a shop: open for business, to be queued for and used. I find that language utterly appalling. Their words conveyed their values. The silence of everyone else in that chat said something about values too. It suggests how normalised such talk had become within that college community or friendship group.

It is tempting to see cases like this as a few ‘bad apples’ but research suggests the problem is often less about a few bad apples and more about the barrel they are kept in. In a commentary published just last week, Professor Michael Flood, one of the world’s leading researchers on masculinities and violence prevention, pointed to consistent evidence that men’s likelihood of perpetrating violence against women is shaped by the settings in which they live, play and work, including university fraternities, sports teams, workplaces and the military.

What matters most is the culture inside a particular group: what is joked about, what is tolerated and what is quietly cheered on. In one frequently cited study, Humphrey and Kahn found that some fraternities and athletic teams carried much higher risks of sexual assault than others. Members of groups that fellow students saw as having a ‘party’ atmosphere conducive to sexual offences showed more hostility towards women, and more peer support for sexual violence, than members of groups seen as low risk (Flood & Dyson, 2007). In other words, similar young men in similar institutions behaved very differently depending on what their peers expected, excused and applauded. Flood is also clear that attitudes are only part of the picture: changing what young men say they believe does not automatically change how they behave. For those of us raising or teaching young people, this is a powerful message: the groups our children join and the cultures we build in our homes, schools and clubs can make harm more likely or completely unthinkable. Culture really matters.

The second story came from US politics. A member of the current administration suggested live streaming the execution by firing squad of Nidal Hasan, who was convicted of murdering 13 people in 2009. The UN human rights office has warned that broadcasting an execution would breach the absolute prohibition on cruel, inhuman and degrading treatment. One official’s reply, that ‘nobody has to watch it if they don’t want to’, will not reassure any parent who knows how quickly footage spreads online.

What would drive someone to share another’s last moments? The third story, reported by the BBC, made that question painfully real: a man died after entering the tiger enclosure at a wildlife park near Doncaster. As he fought for his life, onlookers filmed it on their phones. Within hours, the footage was circulating so widely that police asked people to stop sharing it, as strangers forwarded his last moments for follows and reactions. I dread to think how many children across the world have viewed it.

Three very different stories, yet the same questions sit beneath each of them. Who are we? Where does our humanity go when suffering becomes content? And how do we build homes, schools and communities where everyone is treated with dignity, even those who have committed unspeakable acts? As Michelle Obama famously put it, “When they go low, we go high.” How we respond to the worst of human behaviour says as much about us as about them.

Motivate

The real question is not whether they will encounter dreadful things, but whether someone will help them make sense of what they see. So how might we talk about each of these stories with children of different ages? The Cornell case opens up conversations about alcohol, drugs, consent, belief and bystanders.

I used it as a springboard for a chat with my 17-year-old son before a house party. How many are going, I asked? What do you like about these parties? Have you ever seen poor behaviour? What do we think about filming someone who is intoxicated (which I hear happens a lot)? What language do we use about other partygoers on WhatsApp? The chat has to begin somewhere! It was brief, but enough to get him thinking and remind him where the boundaries lie before he headed out.

The proposed livestreamed execution raises questions of dignity and spectacle. Reasonable families will disagree here, and that is fine. The death penalty is a legitimate subject for debate, and teenagers deserve to hear more than one view. But help them see a distinction: a person can believe someone deserves the most serious punishment and still believe that turning a death into a broadcast degrades all of us who watch.

The tiger tragedy is about curiosity, compassion and what we choose to share. Feeling a pull to look is normal: morbid curiosity is a natural human trait, a way of learning about danger from a safe distance, so we shouldn’t shame children for feeling it. But feeling curious and choosing to watch, re-watch and forward are different things. The man in that footage was someone’s son, perhaps someone’s brother or partner.

So where do we draw the line, and how do we nurture family values that our children will carry into every social group, friendship and relationship? By talking openly about how we believe people should behave, how to speak up for others and what integrity looks like. We should acknowledge that peer pressure is real and sometimes hard to navigate, but family conversations build the social confidence children need to stand up to it.

Support

One of their loveliest tips: when the world feels heavy, teach children and young people to spot life’s helpers. For every tough story shared above, there is someone kind who has helped a victim, done the decent thing and held on to shared values of humanity.

Think of the brave student journalists who brought the Cornell case to light, the emergency crews who rushed to the tiger enclosure, and the countless voices worldwide who said ‘not in our name’ to broadcasting an execution.

Noticing others’ kindness and decency isn’t sugar-coating; it reminds children that humanity is alive in the world and that people care about one another.

Sometimes as parents we might shy away from asking our children and young people if they have seen any distressing content. It is so much easier to not know! Have they ever seen something online that was distressing? That they regret seeing? Are they worried about something they have read about or heard about? Child and adolescent psychiatrist Professor Dennis Ougrin reminds us that, “Asking about a child’s worries doesn’t re-traumatise the child. We know this from loads of research. If anything, it makes things better”.

Before these conversations, check in with yourself. Children take their emotional cues from us, so it is fine to say, “I found that really upsetting too", but less helpful to spiral in front of them. Then lead with curiosity, not a lecture: ask what they have heard and where and calmly correct any misinformation. Validation is not agreement: we can acknowledge the feeling (“I can see why that frightened you”) without endorsing every fear.

Answer questions truthfully, in clear, age-appropriate language and without graphic detail, and avoid protective white lies, which make children less likely to come back to us. If they don’t want to talk, don’t push; just let them know the door is always open. Routine helps restore a sense of safety, as does gently pointing out that many of these events are happening far away.

Pitch it to their age. For under-sevens, keep rolling news off and offer short, reassuring answers such as, “That happened a long way away, and grown-ups are working hard to keep people safe”. Seven- to eleven-year-olds will hear things in the playground, so focus on the helpers and give them a plan for anything upsetting online: close it, don’t share it, tell a grown-up. Treat teenagers as thinkers: invite their views, share your reasoning and ask my dad’s questions: where would you draw the line, and why there?

Ofcom found that children see violent content online as almost unavoidable, often from primary school. A simple family rule works at any age: we don’t go looking for it, we don’t share it, and if we see it, we talk about it.

Worries often surface at bedtime, so a calm routine with less screen time beforehand helps at any age. For some, ‘constructive worry time’ (writing down worries and possible solutions a couple of hours before bed) can ease night-time rumination, while simple grounding and breathing exercises can soothe a very distressed child. And never underestimate the basics: “If I, as a child psychiatrist, could put art, nature and sports into one pill and give it to children,” says Professor Ougrin, “then there would be much less need for other kinds of pills.”

Our humanity isn’t something we either have or lack. It is a choice we make, repeatedly, in what we watch, share, say and do. Those choices are learned at home, long before our children join a party, a team or a group chat: in the values we name out loud and the tough converations we don’t shy away from. My dad never told me what to think, but at the dinner table he made sure I knew what I believed and why. When we do the same, we give our children more than protection from the world’s dreadful things: we give them the values, and the voice, to meet challenging circumstances and still act with decency.