Governments have moved quickly to crack down on child sex offenders,
leaving little room for debate. So why are specialists in the field feeling
uneasy about this no-nonsense approach?
"Tom" fidgets nervously, eyes downcast, hunched under an invisible weight.
Now in his 20s, he comes from an educated but conservative
family and once had promising career prospects, but a few
years ago he committed a child sex offence and spent a year in jail.
Details of his crime can't be revealed because anonymity is
a condition of this interview. It's enough to say his
punishment was warranted.
Tom's lawyer, Paul Galbally, worked hard to keep his
client's spirits up while he was doing time. "Don't worry, you'll get
through this," he said, "and then you'll be able to move on."
But moving on is getting harder for people such as Tom, caught in a
widening criminal justice net designed to catch and deter child sex
offenders. He will never be able to work or take a voluntary role
alongside children, as mandatory police checks are soon to be
introduced. More daunting for him, however, is knowing the
police will monitor his movements for the next 15 years, as
new Victorian laws track all child sex offenders on a register.
Yet Galbally, who is deeply critical of the new laws, says
independent psychologists thought Tom was a low risk of re-offending.
Tom discusses his predicament in rushed, halting speech.
"I have to go to the police station once a year and let
them know if I've bought a new car, if I'm going
interstate or going overseas, if I have kids."
People say 'Just move on', but how can you? I can understand
why there's this law, because there's some really sick guys
out there - I met people like that in prison who said 'I'm going
to get out and do it again', and I know if I was a parent I wouldn't
want them near my kids."
And I know that if I was a parent I wouldn't want anyone
like me near my child.
I wouldn't care about someone's individual case, just
reading in the paper what they've done would be enough.
So I can't condemn this law because I think we need it - but then I'm
caught in it too."
Pedophilia has become a metaphor for innocence lost. Even in the
most respectable places we now expect to find something rotten. The
most recent jolt, last year's Operation Auxin, Australia's biggest pornography
crackdown, led to hundreds of arrests, thousands of charges and public anxiety.
It also galvanised governments around the country into passing a flurry of
antipedophile measures, including new offences for accessing and downloading
child porn on the internet or using a mobile phone camera to distribute home-made material.
But a wide net inevitably scoops up small fry along with the big fish.
The same laws that nab hard-core recidivists such as "Mr Baldy," Brian
Jones - whose imminent release is causing the Victorian Government to
rush through measures restricting the movement of dangerous
sex offenders - also prosecute teenage lovers furtively
bridging the age of consent divide or past offenders, such
as Tom, deemed worthy of rejoining the fold.
The swift legislative pace has left little time to debate
this point, or, perhaps more crucially, whether the increasingly
heavyhanded approach actually frustrates the wider fight
against child sex abuse.
Prominent criminologists, lawyers and even some child advocates
think it does. On the other hand, victim groups, who only
recently secured a seat at the policy table, think the changes are long overdue.
How do you stop the runaway train of populism to check
whether it is fuelled by sound policy?
"What we've been seeing for about the past five years, particularly
with the sex abuse that's come out of the church and so on, is an
ongoing moral panic," says Simon Petrie, who develops crime prevention
programs in Queensland. "The two things that happen in moral panic
are 'zero tolerance' and a lack of rational debate. You can't defend
predatory sexual behaviour of any sort but the problem is, whenever
a moral panic is on, anyone who wants to enter into a discourse on it is painted as 'soft'."
In Victoria, the politics of zero-tolerance have created a headache
for the Bracks Government. It ended the career of popular Orbost
teacher Andrew Phillips for a sexual assault on a 15-year-old girl
when he was 20.
The Government initially envisaged a discretionary system, which
would allow for individual exceptions, but backed down after an outcry
from the Opposition and media.
Phillips' fate has added to controversy over proposed laws that would
similarly ban anyone convicted of a child sex offence from working with children.
The proposals please Parents Victoria and prominent child welfare
campaigners such as Joe Tucci of the Australian Childhood Foundation,
who argues that setting the bar high is the best way of deterring
would-be abusers adept at chilling manipulation. But the outcry over
Phillips has cast the dilemma into sharp relief."
Any law which provides no discretion for individual circumstances
is a bad law," former Law Institute president Bill O'Shea told a
community forum recently. He warned that an inflexible system could
influence judges against recording convictions for minor cases. The
proposed law unfairly penalised people guilty of "a minor sexual
offence in the distant past" or "a more serious sexual offence but
have been rehabilitated and can therefore be regarded as no more
likely to re-offend than any other member of the community".
Picking the recidivist is an inexact science, however. One cloudy
point of reference is the official American Psychiatric Association
definition of a pedophile: a person 16 or older with persistent
sexual urges for children at least five years younger, which are
either acted upon or cause distress.
But, as forensic psychiatrist Bill Glaser puts it, "you don't get
pedophiles breeding in pure cultures"."
Let's say you're a 12 or 13-year-old girl hanging around with a
17-year-old guy," Glaser says. "It's possible that both parties
could well be said to be mutually consenting and the matter would never go to the police.
There's probably thousands of such relationships in Victoria."
But you've got to remember that most people who prey on kids
start off young themselves - in their mid to late teenage years,
and also that sex offenders always do much more than they're ever picked up for."
I've seen guys take up with 15 or 16- year-olds who I'd call
pedophiles because their preferred interest is much younger ...
Many of these guys may have convictions in their teenage years
that look harmless but they were really just unlucky
enough to get caught that time."
But criminologists, such as Griffith University's Stephen
Smallbone, claim the law-and-order debate is driven by
misconceptions about the highly recidivist nature of child sex offenders.
A landmark Canadian study of 22,000 child sex offenders
from various countries found only 13 per cent re-offend
five years after their release - a figure considerably lower
than for other violent crimes.
Smallbone's research on adolescent offenders, coupled with
empirical findings elsewhere, also contradict the popularly
held view that most young child sex offenders continue
their crimes into adulthood.
Forensic psychologist Karen Owen, who runs sex offender
treatment programs for Corrections Victoria, echoes Smallbone's
concerns: "The current policy isn't reflective of what we know
about treatment, that you need an individual approach ...
There are a number of adolescents who get caught up in the
system whose issues aren't about sex and children, and you
really question what they're doing on a register in the first
place. It's a huge thing that impacts on people's lives and
livelihoods."
Owen says profiling is harder still with those convicted of
accessing child porn on the net. She recalls a long-time
pedophile who was finally apprehended for loitering when
he resorted to secretly videotaping children."
This sort of individual doesn't have to loiter in public
places now because he has access to the internet," Owen says.
"But at the moment there is really no direct evidence that the
use of internet porn or other porn material actually leads to a hands-on offence."
Experts say the true picture instead suggests that small
numbers of extremely high-risk offenders - perhaps only
10 per cent of the lot - clock up enough victims on their
own to skew the statistics. And yet this is also why
letting one such compulsive person slip through the net can
have potentially catastrophic consequences - and why deterring
them saves potentially hundreds of victims a lifetime of trauma.
Working-with-children checks in Queensland and NSW do give
people convicted of a child sex offence the chance to plead
their case.
In Queensland, an employee of an Aboriginal community school
last year successfully petitioned the Court of Appeal to keep
his job. Police checks revealed an offence committed in 1988,
when the man was in his 30s, which involved the "improper
touching" of a 13 year-old girl. At the time, he was also
dismissed from his job at a youth crisis housing centre after
being repeatedly cautioned for acting inappropriately with young girls.
The court was swayed by the narrow time frame of his
offending behaviour, his willingness to take responsibility
and his successful rearing of children and foster children in the years since.
Giving a convicted child sex offender the benefit of the
doubt sits uneasily with most people, but for increasingly
influential victims advocates it sparks understandable rage.
"I've never met anyone who really believes these people
can be cured," says Noel McNamara, head of the Crime
Victims Support Association. He had lobbied the Victorian
Government to introduce a compulsory sex offenders
register for years, to no avail. Later, on advice from
fellow activists in the United States, he threatened
to set up and publish one of his own. "We decided we
had to do something because we weren't getting anywhere
and Robbie Hulls (the state Attorney-General) looked
like he was going to be around for a long time. We had to use a lever."
The association never followed through, but the South
Australian-based Movement Against Kindred Offenders (MAKO) did.
Its website, replete with offender aliases and photographs,
lists more than 1200 names.
MAKO founder Kylie Newman says putting communities on alert and offenders on notice outweighs civil rights considerations."
I was a victim myself," she says, "and it never leaves you, let me tell you."
A lot of them don't deserve to released Anything they get other
than death is a blessing to them."
It's a view many share - even if secretly.
And yet it's the tendency to tar all offenders with the shame
brush - subject them all to the same harsh consequences - that some
say impedes the war against child sex abuse.
It is a war in which the family remains the largely unconquered battlefield.
There's a sobering example in Western Australia. In the recent
state elections, child sex abuse survivor and activist Michelle
Stubbs unsuccessfully contested a seat for the Liberals. Attacking
Labor as soft on crime, the Opposition concentrated on
SafeCare, a
child protection agency that also offers a radical counselling program
for familial child sex offenders.
The program, funded by both parties for more than a
decade and publicly praised by former federal community
services minister Amanda Vanstone, aims to break the
generational cycle of child sex abuse. The offender is
given "conditional confidentiality" if he or she agrees
to leave the family home and undergo treatment. The option
is offered only when victims are reluctant to press charges.
The Opposition attacked the program for undermining the
criminal justice system. SafeCare survived the criticism,
but the affair illustrates how the intricacies of child
sex abuse can get ironed out in a heated debate that
favours one-size- fits-all solutions.
Says SafeCare's clinical director, former Greens
senator Christabel Chamarette: "I'm glad people are more
aware of the problem (of child sex abuse), but we now have
to move towards further understanding and away from knee-jerk reactions.
It should be self-evident that we also need to look at a healing approach."
The experts agree widely on this; pointing to the apparent
success of early intervention programs in the US and Britain
that encourage people suffering deviant urges to come forward.
But they'll be the first to concede that this is a hard sell.
Says Owen: "We like to think that if you're a child sex offender
you wear a grey raincoat, you're a bit filthy and you hang around
in parks. Because these sort of men aren't our fathers, our brothers
or the man sitting next to us on the tram- it's a way of
distancing ourselves from the problem."
The Age (18-4-2005)
Julie Szego
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