School violence is not a new phenomenon. What is new is that it is now often recorded and posted online. When seeing their friend being beaten, the reflex of many students now is to pull out their phones.
That action can be apathetic, or it can be the only way they know to preserve a truth.
A new directive from the Ministry of Education and Training requires absolutely no filming, photographing, or distributing clips. Is the education sector trying to get children to put down their phones, or is it trying to teach them when to raise them and when to stop?
If we go back to a time before every child had a phone in hand, we would see an old question still remains: why does violence still occur in schoolyards? What I think about is not whether that directive is right or wrong, but what it aims to protect and whether it might inadvertently take something else away.
I understand why such a requirement was made. A violent clip, once it spreads, does not stop at reporting the news. It prolongs the pain of those involved.
A child’s face being beaten, being humiliated, is passed around thousands of times, lingering online long after the bruises on their body have healed.
Article 21 of the 2016 Law on Children recognizes the right to privacy of children, including the protection of their honor and dignity. Posting images of a child who is a victim online to gain views is a violation of that right. The desire to prevent this is legitimate.
But grouping three actions into one phrase inevitably creates ambiguity. Filming, photographing, and distributing are not the same in nature. Distributing to mock is what needs to be stopped. But filming, recording a violent act as it happens, is often a completely different matter.
In many cases, that is the only evidence that makes the incident visible. Look at recent incidents. Students in Ninh Binh, in Lao Cai were beaten, chased. Why did the public know, and authorities get involved? Because someone recorded it. If no one had filmed, those incidents would likely have gone unnoticed.
This is where I think a clear distinction is needed. The law protects personal images, but not absolutely.
Article 32 of the 2015 Civil Code recognizes an individual’s right to their image, but also states that an image used for public benefit and without harming the person’s honor or dignity does not require the consent of the person in the image.
Recording a wrongful act to report it and distributing a victim’s image for entertainment are two things on opposite sides of that line.
The nature of the document should also be properly understood. This is a guiding directive within the sector, not a law.
According to Clause 2, Article 14 of the 2013 Constitution, human rights and citizens’ rights can only be restricted by law.
Therefore, the word “absolutely” here is more reasonable if understood as a reminder about conduct, rather than a prohibition with sanctions. Understood that way, the task is not to teach students not to hold their phones, but to teach them to distinguish when to record and send it to someone responsible, and when to stop before hitting the share button.
I understand the education sector’s concern about rapidly spreading clips. But one question should still be kept in mind. When an act of violence is filmed and posted online, what bothers people more: the clip or the incident in the clip?
If it is the incident, then the effort should not be focused on the phone. A clip does not create the punch; it only shows adults the punch that was already there. What is desirable is a day when there is nothing left to film, not a day when no one dares to film.
In the context where school violence remains a concerning issue, intuitive and relatable legal education models are being highly valued.
