Overparenting: How does Claire Perry know if we're “smothering our children”?

The Conservative MP’s concerns only represent one experience of parenting – her own.

Claire Perry, the Prime Minister’s “adviser on the Commercialisation and Sexualisation of Childhood”, worries that we’re smothering our children. On the plus side, she doesn’t mean literally (phew!). She means metaphorically, in the way that most people do when they trot out the same old line on how the younger generation’s being spoilt rotten and not learning to be independent blah blah blah. I don’t blame her for doing it. It’s always a useful argument to bring to the table. On the one hand it’s a lovely, passive means of vilifying young people who don’t have any opportunity to demonstrate their worth anyhow (“oh, you’re useless, you lot, but we’re not blaming you for this”); on the other you get to hold your own generation responsible for economic and social decline while appearing benevolent (“you’ve totally messed up, but we know you didn’t mean to; you did it because you care”). Genuis! Everyone’s on the wrong track except Claire Perry. And who am I to question it? Unlike Perry, I don’t have a geography degree and a previous career in finance, so I’m hardly parenting guru material.

To be fair to Perry, she is speaking from personal experience of parenting (i.e. having spent time as a stay-at-home mother), in rather the same way that Michael Gove speaks from personal experience of education (i.e. having gone to a particular school). Perry and Gove’s recommendations would probably seem reasonable if everyone were just like Perry and Gove, children included (except then we’d have no one to blame when things were still going wrong). But the fact is, we’re not all like them anyhow, and yet they’re making decisions which affect our children’s lives on this very basis. To know what’s good for people surely requires one to have an interest in people, and not just in the moral messages one has constructed from one’s own life story.

Perry took a seven-year career break to care for her children and hence, rather generously, counts her past self as one of the main offenders when it comes to mollycoddling:

A lot of it is women who, because it is difficult to get on, subjugate their own ambition into their kids. That makes it harder when they get to university and realise they haven't got a mother to help them with their homework, watching their every move.

"We've all done it. Now, I just can't, so I don't, and I think they're probably better off as a result. Good parenting isn't just about making sure they come top in maths but all the difficult stuff too. If they don't learn the limits from us, who will tell them?

It’s hard to miss the shift between the specific (“women who …”) to the global (“we’ve all done it”). No, Claire, we haven’t, or rather, if we have, it’s been in ways that are specific to the conditions and limitations of our own lives. Who are you to judge with such sweeping statements as this? What of all the women who don’t have the luxury of ambition? Who struggle to manage their time, money and expectations alongside those of their children? What of parents for whom “the difficult stuff” isn’t an optional extra once you’ve stopped fussing over equations? What pearls of wisdom do you have to offer them? 

I’m going to be hypocritical here and use a lesson learned from my own life. Except – except! – the lesson is that you just can’t use what’s happened in your own life to judge other parents (unless that lesson is just specific to me? Hell, I don’t know, but anyhow, I’m using it). I’ve spent practically my whole life – from way back, long before I had children – worrying about “overparenting”. One of my responses to having a close relative who suffers from a disability has been to panic about independence and co-dependence. I’ve spent years thinking “if only X didn’t do everything for Y, then Y would be able to do so much more”. That’s because I’m judgmental and convinced I’d do so much better, only deep down, I know it’s not true. X might be doing so much because quite frankly, his or her life is hard and it’s easier to give in and do too much than it is to promote the wondrous “independence” that makes life so much easier, if not for the individuals concerned, then for external observers. Y might not be as capable as he or she appears to those who aren’t there every day. Perhaps, on a very personal level, I’m just so scared of having to take on X’s role in future, I pretend there’s no space to be filled (rather like a government minister who pretends young people don’t need support, they just need to stand on their own two feet). Each time a parent does “too much” there are so many extra conditions which other people don’t see that it’s impossible to say “you could do it better”. And here I’m talking about fairly extreme levels of “too much”. Helping with homework? For god’s sake, this isn’t ruining your child’s chance to be independent (suggesting that under-25s live with their parents while working in return for JSA – now, that would be a different matter).

Personally, I have no idea whether I do too much or too little for my children. Probably a bit of both, so I’m either destroying them twice over or achieving a perfect balance. There are ways in which I’d like them to be like me (like me, that is, but with more money – professional footballers with arts PhDs on the side is the direction in which I’m pushing them). But is that “subjugating [my] own ambition into [my] kids” (whatever that means) or just me being your average narcissistic parent, regardless of gender or past experience? After all, like the vast majority of parents, whether they’re in paid work or not, I didn’t have a high-powered career to put on hold to begin with. Alas, you can’t blame these frustrated career women for everything, and it’s about time politicians stopped thinking only of themselves each time they’re accusing others of self-obsession and an inability to move on. 

 

You can't use lessons from your own life to judge other parents. Photograph: Stephanski on Flickr, via Creative Commons

Glosswitch is a feminist mother of three who works in publishing.

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How a small tax rise exposed the SNP's anti-austerity talk for just that

The SNP refuse to use their extra powers to lessen austerity, says Kezia Dugdale.

"We will demand an alternative to slash and burn austerity."

With those few words, Nicola Sturgeon sought to reassure the people of England, Wales and Northern Ireland last year that the SNP were a party opposed to public spending cuts. We all remember the general election TV debates, where the First Minister built her celebrity as the leader of the anti-austerity cause.

Last week, though, she was found out. When faced with the choice between using the powers of the Scottish Parliament to invest in the future or imposing cuts to our schools, Nicola Sturgeon chose cuts. Incredible as it sounds the SNP stood shoulder to shoulder with the Tories to vote for hundreds of millions of pounds worth of cuts to schools and other vital public services, rather than asking people to pay a little bit more to invest. That's not the choice of an anti-austerity pin-up. It's a sell-out.

People living outside of Scotland may not be fully aware of the significant shift that has taken place in politics north of the border in the last week. The days of grievance and blaming someone else for decisions made in Scotland appear to be coming to an end.

The SNP's budget is currently making its way through the Scottish Parliament. It will impose hundreds of millions of pounds of cuts to local public services - including our schools. We don't know what cuts the SNP are planning for future years because they are only presenting a one year budget to get them through the election, but we know from the experts that the biggest cuts are likely to come in 2017/18 and 2018/19. For unprotected budgets like education that could mean cuts of 16 per cent.

It doesn't have to be this way, though. The Scottish Parliament has the power to stop these cuts, if only we have the political will to act. Last week I did just that.

I set out a plan, using the new powers we have today, to set a Scottish rate of income tax 1p higher than that set by George Osborne. This would raise an extra half a billion pounds, giving us the chance to stop the cuts to education and other services. Labour would protect education funding in real terms over the next five years in Scotland. Faced with the choice of asking people to pay a little bit more to invest or carrying on with the SNP's cuts, the choice was pretty simple for me - I won't support cuts to our nation’s future prosperity.

Being told by commentators across the political spectrum that my plan is bold should normally set alarm bells ringing. Bold is usually code for saying something unpopular. In reality, it's pretty simple - how can I say I am against cuts but refuse to use the powers we have to stop them?

Experts - including Professors David Bell and David Eiser of the University of Stirling; the Resolution Foundation; and IPPR Scotland - have said our plan is fair because the wealthiest few would pay the most. Trade unions have backed our proposal, because they recognise the damage hundreds of millions of pounds of cuts will do to our schools and the jobs it will cost.

Council leaders have said our plan to pay £100 cashback to low income taxpayers - including pensioners - to ensure they benefit from this plan is workable.

The silliest of all the SNP's objections is that they won't back our plan because the poorest shouldn't have to pay the price of Tory austerity. The idea that imposing hundreds of millions of pounds of spending cuts on our schools and public services won't make the poorest pay is risible. It's not just the poorest who will lose out from cuts to education. Every single family and business in Scotland would benefit from having a world class education system that gives our young the skills they need to make their way in the world.

The next time we hear Nicola Sturgeon talk up her anti-austerity credentials, people should remember how she did nothing when she had the chance to end austerity. Until now it may have been acceptable to say you are opposed to spending cuts but doing nothing to stop them. Those days are rapidly coming to a close. It makes for the most important, and most interesting, election we’ve had in Scotland.

Kezia Dugdale is leader of Scottish Labour.