DR ASIF HASSAN
In recent years, our society has been engaged in loud debates about politics, economy, and geopolitics, yet some of the gravest dangers to our collective future are unfolding quietly within our homes, schools, and streets. Drug addiction, rising crime among youth, online obscenity, gambling, domestic violence, and a disturbing erosion of basic manners are no longer distant phenomena that we read about in reports; they are realities that many families confront every single day.
While it is convenient to blame the government, the education system, or technology, we often refuse to look at the foundational institution that shapes every human being: the family. At the heart of the family stands parental control – not as an authoritarian whip, but as a responsible, value‑based guidance that can either protect children from social evils or inadvertently push them towards them through neglect, over‑control, or misplaced priorities.
In Kashmiri society, the family traditionally played the role of a fortress. Children grew up under the watchful eyes of parents, grandparents, and the wider mohalla. Values were not delivered through lectures alone but were lived in daily practices – how elders spoke to one another, how guests were treated, how neighbours were cared for in times of illness or grief.
Today, this social fabric is fraying. Economic pressures, migration, and the explosion of digital media have reduced the time and emotional energy that parents devote to their children. In many homes, the television, smartphone, or tablet has quietly replaced the parent as the primary educator and entertainer. The result is a generation that is hyper‑connected to the world yet increasingly disconnected from its roots, its responsibilities, and sometimes from its own family.
Social evils do not emerge in a vacuum. When a young boy slips into substance abuse, when a teenager is caught in cybercrime, when a child begins to speak with shocking disrespect, these are not isolated incidents. They are symptoms of a deeper moral and emotional deficit that begins early. Parental control, when understood as firm yet loving involvement in a child’s life, is the first line of defence against such outcomes. Control here does not mean policing every breath a child takes, but being present enough to know where the child is, who their friends are, what they are watching, and what they are silently struggling with. It means providing a sense of direction and boundaries, without suffocating their individuality.
Unfortunately, many parents swing to extremes. On one side is total negligence disguised as modernity: “Let the child decide”, “We do not want to be strict”, “Everyone is doing it, why should we be different?” On the other side is suffocating authoritarianism: “You will not question”, “You will obey without explanation”, “Honour the family name at all costs.” Both extremes are harmful. Negligence leaves the child at the mercy of peers, trends, and algorithms that are indifferent to their well‑being. Harsh control breeds rebellion, secrecy, and in the worst cases, double lives in which children present obedience at home while indulging in risky behaviour outside.
Balanced parental control requires time, patience, and self‑discipline from adults. It demands that parents become role models rather than just rule‑givers. A father who lectures his son about avoiding drugs but returns home drunk, a mother who warns her daughter about social media yet spends hours gossiping and spreading rumours online, cannot hope to inspire respect or obedience. Children are far more influenced by what they see than by what they are told. If we desire a generation that is honest, compassionate, and morally grounded, we must embody those qualities ourselves.
The digital world has added a complex layer to the challenge. Social evils have moved from the street corner to the palm of the hand. A child can be exposed to pornography, hate speech, violent content, and fraudulent schemes long before they set foot in a marketplace. The old style of parental control – relying on physical proximity and community surveillance – is no longer sufficient. Parents must now educate themselves about the online spaces their children inhabit. It is not enough to buy a smartphone “because everyone has one” and then turn a blind eye. Setting screen‑time limits, using parental controls, keeping devices out of bedrooms at night, and most importantly, having open conversations about what children see online, are no longer optional – they are essential.
At the same time, schools and religious institutions cannot wash their hands of responsibility. Teachers often observe early signs of behavioural changes: falling grades, sudden aggression, withdrawal, or inappropriate language. Instead of treating these as mere disciplinary issues, schools must work with parents to understand what lies beneath. Sermons in mosques and religious gatherings, too, should move beyond abstract moralising and address the concrete realities of drugs, domestic violence, and digital addiction that families are facing. Yet, in all of this, parents remain central; no institution can compensate for an absent or indifferent home.
There is also a need to recognise the immense stress under which many parents live today. Economic insecurity, unemployment, political instability, and social pressures weigh heavily on adults, often leaving them emotionally drained. In such an environment, children’s questions can feel like an added burden rather than an opportunity for guidance. This is precisely why community‑based counselling, parenting workshops, and support networks are vital. Parenting is a skill that must be learned and refined, not an instinct we are automatically born with. Admitting that we need help does not diminish our authority; it strengthens our ability to guide.
Ultimately, addressing social evils is not merely about punishing offenders or banning substances. It is about building strong humans, and that construction begins at home. When a child grows up feeling heard, respected, and guided with firmness and love, their chances of falling prey to destructive temptations diminish significantly. When, instead, the home becomes a place of shouting, comparison, or cold silence, the child will seek comfort and belonging elsewhere – often in spaces where social evils flourish.
The question before us, therefore, is not whether we want to control our children, but how we choose to do so. Will parental control be a rigid cage that breaks their spirit, or a protective boundary that allows them to grow safely and confidently? Will we continue to outsource our responsibilities to screens, schools, and sermons, or will we reclaim our rightful place as the first teachers and moral anchors of our children?
If we truly wish to see a society free of drugs, violence, and moral decay, we must start not with slogans, but with sincere introspection within our homes. The transformation of society begins in the living room, at the dinner table, in the quiet conversations before sleep. Social evils thrive in the absence of meaningful parental presence. Restoring that presence – wise, compassionate, and firm – may be our most powerful weapon in reclaiming the future.
(The Author is an educationist, public speaker, and columnist)
