As a dad to 8, four of whom are fully adult, I would, very rarely, resort to corporal punishment, but would use it for situations where one of my daughters was endangering herself or others. I would also make sure I wasn’t angry at the time, but coldly rational. It also phased out as they got to the point of being able to better understand the reasons behind the rules. Open hand on bottom only; the anticipation was more painful than the spank.
The one exception to this was, during a particular tense phase in Israeli/Palestinian relations, there was an scheme going on where Arabs were actively trying to kidnap Jewish kids and hold them for ransom (or simply torture and kill them). We lived Gush Katif, which was the heart of this activity.
One daughter sneaked off to (probably) go smoke pot with some friends, in particular an Arab boy who was very nice and good kid – but his relatives were very much hardcore known terrorists. And this was the modus operandi – lure a kid off usually with an innocent kid – and kidnap.
Anyway, she went missing, and there was an active police/military search for 12 hours. She was not harmed, but almost certainly being lured into a bad place. (She admitted years later, they were trying to get her to get into a car and lure her to go to another town that was a hair beyond the Green Line.)
Anyway, she was found by the military and received a complete, furious, leather-belt-breaking-the-sound barrier, ass whooping, still talked about to this day. Grounded (and serious grounding, with locks on doors). Phone, everything, gone for the school year. We didn’t talk for days after.
She now says she absolutely deserved it and thanks me for changing her ways, laughing about what a stupid, selfish, b–ch she had been.
I felt guilty after, but there was zero chance I was going to let her get killed.
Anyway, there is a time and (rare) place for corporal punishment.