KEY POINTS:
I suppose I could add my voice to the strident chorus of those who apparently believe they are what they are today because their parents were prepared to be cruel to be kind.
My voice mightn't be welcomed though, because what I am today probably wouldn't meet with
the approval of the self-righteous puritans making most of the noise in defence of a parent's right to smack.
I'll spare them the dilemma: call me sentimental, call me big-headed, but after due consideration I put my modest achievements and current status as a functioning member of society down to my parents' love and support, a good education, and my own efforts, rather than a few whacks on the bum.
Actually, I could be a poster boy for spanking because as well as having the benefit of the occasional bottom-warmer at home, I boarded at King's College in the days when corporal punishment was as routine as porridge for breakfast.
You were either the beater or the beaten: house prefects administered the sandshoe for such lapses as talking after lights out; school prefects were spoilt for choice when it came to finding reasons to force other boys to bend over and take their medicine; and the teachers caned - some as a last resort, others at the drop of a hat.
There was also a system of semi-official bullying known by the bland euphemism "seniority". In practice this meant you could scare and belt the daylights out of younger boys in your boarding house in the name of keeping everyone in their rightful place.
It had been going on for years and was tolerated because it was another instrument of crowd control and widely believed - especially by the old boys among the parents - to make a man of you.
In fact it was mostly pure and simple persecution driven by spite and cruelty - as opposed to a misguided sense of the greater good - that zeroed in with Darwinian inevitability on those least equipped to handle it.
It's hard to know why apparently sensible people would think getting struck on the backside enhances masculinity, especially when there's evidence that it can have the opposite effect.
What percentage of Englishmen developed a taste for spanking as a result of corporal punishment is anyone's guess but it's not called le vice Anglais for nothing.
But whether corporal punishment and institutionalised bullying made a man of you or turned you into a masochistic sissy, their time has well and truly passed. As a society we decided - better late than never - that such behaviour belonged to another, less enlightened age. What's left is the punishment we dish out to our own children in the privacy of our own home.
Those who see this as an inalienable right insist that Nanny State shouldn't interfere in the workings of a family. Oddly enough, when instances of horrific child abuse come to light, Nanny State is usually criticised for not being interfering enough, the suggestion being that if the social workers had been more persistent, attentive, and forceful in their dealings with the family concerned, the tragedy might well have been averted.
Any debate of this nature ushers in red herring season. We expect the police to recognise false or frivolous complaints in other areas, so why not here? And while it might be true that those most likely to abuse their children won't be deterred by the removal of the "reasonable force'' defence, that unfortunate reality applies to most laws in the statute book. We don't declare open slather on the roads just because hoons and drunks ignore traffic lights and speed limits.
If history teaches us anything it's that the punitive urge and religious zeal go hand in hand. Some smacking enthusiasts claim the Bible contains God's seal of approval.
Leaving aside the fact that much of what passed for wisdom in the Middle East 2000 years ago is of questionable value today, the oft-quoted maxim "spare the rod and spoil the child" doesn't come from the Bible.
The nearest the Bible gets is Proverbs 13-24: "He that spareth the rod, hateth his son but he that loveth him, correcteth him betimes." Some of Christianity's messages may indeed be timeless but surely mankind has advanced to a point where parental love isn't measured in smacks.
The line actually comes from a satirical poem - lampooning Puritanism - by the 17th century English poet Samuel Butler (as distinct from the 19th century English writer of the same name who for a time farmed in the Canterbury high country).
It crops up in a conversation between a knight and an amorous widow and whatever discipline they have in mind has nothing to do with children.
