As published by the Zambia Daily Mail on April 25th, 2026
Violence against women does not begin in marriage. It often begins in the home and classroom, when children are taught that love and pain go together. Gender-based violence (GBV) has become one of Zambia’s biggest social and public health challenges. Government, cooperating partners and civil society have all stepped up efforts to respond. But response alone is not enough; prevention is essential.
One of the most overlooked risk factors lies in how we choose to “discipline” children. Across the country, slaps, whips and beatings are still common in homes and some schools, defended as necessary to produce “respectful” children. In reality, this form of violent discipline trains the next generation to accept or reproduce violence in their own intimate relationships. In townships, compounds and villages, many adults still believe that the only way to raise a well-behaved child is through a “proper beating”. Children are hit with belts, sticks, hosepipes and open hands. In some schools, despite a long-standing ban, teachers still line pupils up for the cane.
National survey data show a troubling contradiction: many Zambians say they oppose violence against women and children, yet a majority still believe it is acceptable for parents to use physical force on children “sometimes” or “always”. This double standard lies at the heart of our struggle. We condemn GBV but continue to defend violence as a tool of love and education.
When a child is told, “I beat you because I love you,” a dangerous lesson is learned: that love and pain belong together, and that the person with more power has the right to use their hands.
Not every child who is beaten will grow up to beat a partner, and not every survivor of corporal punishment will be abused in marriage. Human lives are more complex than that. However, research from Southern Africa and beyond shows a clear pattern: people who grow up with violent discipline are more likely, as adults, to accept or use violence in intimate relationships.
Boys who are beaten or who witness their mothers being beaten may learn that “real men” control the home by force. Girls who are regularly punished harshly may learn to keep quiet and endure, even when they are hurt. Later in life, this can translate into staying with an abusive partner because pain feels “normal” or using violence because it is what they saw growing up. In other words, the first “school” of GBV is not a bar, shebeen or street corner. It is the home and the classroom.
On paper, Zambia has done well. Corporal punishment in schools is prohibited. The Children’s Code Act strengthens the protection of children. The Anti-Gender-Based Violence Act gives survivors more avenues for justice and recognises GBV as a serious crime.
But laws alone do not change old habits.
Many parents defend beatings by saying, “I was beaten and I turned out fine.” Some teachers, overwhelmed by large classes and limited support, feel the stick is the only language pupils understand. Community leaders may condemn GBV in public, but in private still advise women to “go back and resolve things” even after serious violence.
The result is a dangerous double message: GBV is wrong, but beating those we love is acceptable if we call it “discipline”. Ending corporal punishment does not mean letting children misbehave without consequences. It means using firm, fair and non-violent discipline that teaches responsibility instead of fear.
In homes, this can include setting clear rules and explaining them, using time out, loss of privileges or extra non humiliating chores instead of beatings, and adults learning to cool down before reacting in anger. In schools, it means training teachers in classroom management that relies on routines, positive reinforcement and non-violent penalties. It also means re issuing and enforcing the no corporal punishment policy and creating safe channels for pupils to report abuse by teachers or peers. These methods require more patience than picking up a stick, but they produce more confident, respectful and less violent adults. If Zambia is serious about ending GBV, tackling violent child discipline must be part of the plan.
Government can treat corporal punishment as a GBV risk factor, not a side issue; demand regular reporting on violence against children in schools and communities; and fund parenting programmes and teacher training in non-violent discipline. Traditional and faith leaders can publicly preach that love does not require beating – whether of wives or children – and help update community norms that still glorify harsh punishment.
Media houses, including this paper, can run stories and campaigns that expose the link between childhood beatings and later GBV, and give voice to survivors and reformed perpetrators who can explain how violence in childhood shaped their adult relationships. Many Zambians carry visible and invisible scars from the beatings of their own childhoods. This is not about blaming our parents or teachers, who often did what they knew, with the tools they had. It is about making a different choice for the next generation.
The most powerful sentence a mother, father, aunt, uncle, teacher or guardian can say today is not, “I was beaten and I’m fine,” but “I was beaten, and that is exactly why my children will not go through the same.” If we want fewer GBV cases tomorrow, we must stop teaching violence as “discipline” today.
