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Behind closed doors

An unprecedented look inside Serbia's mental institutions

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  Kids hurt by institutionalization
Listen to the long-term effects of bad conditions on Serbia’s institutionalized children from the perspective of Harvard Medical School Professor Charles Nelson, Ph.D., in this interview with NBC's Ann Curry.

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Reporter’s Notebook
By Tim Sandler, NBC News Producer
NBC News
updated 6:54 p.m. ET Aug. 29, 2008

As the geopolitical struggle over the independence of Kosovo from Serbia continues, with war never far from the minds of many, there is an unseen class of people in Serbia whose lives are at risk regardless of the outcome.

They are the estimated 17,000 mentally disabled children and adults who for decades have been systematically warehoused in remote, government-run mental institutions. They are facilities that are unknown to most Serbs, let alone the rest of the world — and perhaps for good reason.

In the course of a yearlong investigation, we gained unprecedented access to institutions across Serbia and found alarming, sometimes life-threatening, conditions. Adults and children — some with only mild symptoms of Down syndrome or cerebral palsy — were crammed into fetid rooms and metal cribs, their bodies often emaciated, atrophied or disfigured. Some had been confined to cribs for years, their bodies conforming to the small space inside the railings.

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In some cases, residents who appeared to be children were actually young adults whose growth had been stunted by years of institutionalization, a telltale sign of extreme neglect, experts say. (See Ann Curry’s interview with Dr. Charles Nelson, a Harvard Medical School professor who explains his research into growth stunting in institutions.)

But perhaps our most disturbing discovery came after staying overnight at one of Serbia’s most overcrowded institutions, in rural Kulina. There, tucked away in the woods, we saw first-hand how children are routinely tied to their bed railings for long stretches of time. It’s a widespread practice in Serbia, according to Laurie Ahern, associate director of Mental Disability Rights International (MDRI). The Washington-based group has been investigating conditions in Serbia’s mental institutions for four years.

“People are just prisoners in these cribs, in these beds,” Ahern says. “We found people being tied up not for ten minutes, but hours.  Four, five, six hours — and day after day after day.”

The institutions’ rationale for tying down children, Ahern says,  is a lack of staff and resources. And without being exposed to any meaningful stimulation, many of the children are prone to hurting themselves when they’re unattended.  “They are hitting themselves. They are biting themselves. I've seen children gouge out their eyes, rip off pieces of their ears, punch themselves till they're black and blue.”

'Children need human touch'
We saw a disturbing example during our overnight stay at the Kulina institute, where a young boy, maybe 12 years old (though it’s tough to tell), was punching his ears so hard that they bled. His metal crib rattled with each blow.

There is a simple biological explanation for this kind of self-abuse, Ahern explains. “Children need touch. Children need human touch.  Food isn't enough.  A child needs stimulation, a child needs love, a child needs to be touched.  And when they're not they would rather feel pain than feel nothing.”

It’s a gruesome cycle: isolation leading to self-abuse leading to restraint and more isolation. 

The horrors of life inside these institutions are chronicled in MDRI’s recent report, Torment not Treatment: Serbia’s Segregation and Abuse of Children and Adults with Disabilities. What sets Serbia apart from the way most other governments treat the mentally disabled, MDRI notes, is the shear number of children and adults who are tied up. Under international law, the group argues, the practice fits the legal definition of torture.

“Tying a child and leaving them indefinitely in a crib, tied in a crib, is inhumane and degrading treatment and torture,” Ahern says. 

A culture of shame
Serbia was once a part of the former Yugoslavia, which began breaking apart in 1991. The mental institutions are remnants of the country’s communist past and symbols of a deeply ingrained prejudice against the mentally disabled and their families.

It’s a culture of shame that has changed little from one generation to another. Serbia’s medical establishment continues to advise parents to put their mentally disabled newborns into institutions, and the government provides virtually no support for those who choose not to. As a result, parents are left with an agonizing choice: Keep their children at home and face financial ruin or give them up to live out their days in government-run institutions. Few families know about the severe conditions in most facilities.
How to help in Serbia

Mental Disability Rights International
www.mdri.org

202-296-0800

UNICEF
www.unicefusa.org/serbia

Save the Children
https://www.savethechildren.org.uk/en/51.htm
020-7012-6400
If you would like your money to be used only on projects in Serbia you must tell Save the Children, either when you call or by emailing .

Familia

011-381-11-3442-254

Great Little People

011-381-11-3565-502

Once parents make this fateful decision, Ahern says, a disabled child’s fate is sealed.

“These children are there for life,” she says. “Once you get into an institution, unless you're lucky enough to have someone come and take you out, you're there for life.”

The staff in these institutions, overworked and underpaid, told us that families rarely visit. Professional training for the attendants is rare. Even so, many do what they can to add a modicum of meaning to the children’s lives. Attendants at the Kulina institution, for instance, told us that on holidays and birthdays they sometimes call the more aware children and, posing as their mothers, offer words of comfort.

One dedicated and highly frustrated director of an adult institution in the town of Kovin, Dr. Milan Milic, risked government retribution by showing us what he acknowledged were “inhumane” living conditions at his facility. Hundreds of residents are crowded into crumbling, moldy buildings constructed in 1912. To compensate for lack of treatment, he says, patients are given higher doses of sedatives and other medications.

“I don’t want to continue this way,” he said as he guided us through the decrepit buildings, where the smell of urine and cigarette smoke can be overwhelming.


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