MY DAUGHTER'S NURSERY BEARS NO RESEMBLANCE to the Chinese orphanage where she spent four of the first seven months of her life. Upon awakening, she is greeted by the sweet scent of powder and fresh sheets, not the eyewatering stench of disinfectant. During the day, bright light filters through the two windows, stimulating her to explore, just as the darkened orphanage room, with its chipped blue paint, encouraged her to remain idle. And when she prepares for sleep, her cribmates are stuffed animals, not two other children.
It is, of course, impossible to defend the indefensible--and the brutalization of children, anytime,...
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