As
I sit at my desk writing this column it is the evening before I
leave for Malaysia to lecture, as I do each year on a Master’s
course on Holistic Child Development. It’s a warm evening
and the window is open. I can hear the dull, incessant hum of traffic
on the major roads at an intersection just a couple of hundred metres
away. And the air is still. The garden is quiet. Apples, cherries
and pears are growing on the trees I can see, and rhubarb is continuing
to appear on our allotment patch just around the corner. A Eucalyptus
tree towers above an oak and an elderberry and its leaves give only
the slightest indication of any breeze.
Either
side of the pear tree are three swings and just beyond them a climbing
frame. There is a rope ladder hanging from the tree and this leads
to a simple, open-plan tree house. Darkness has fallen and so the
swings, the ladder and the frame are understandably unoccupied.
Earlier today and all through the week the garden has been echoing
with the sounds of young children playing. But while that was happening
both the swings and rope ladder were vacant: in fact the swings
were incomplete because the seats had been removed. The reason:
a risk assessment had concluded that they were a hazard to young
children. This reminded me of the time when an inspector had studied
the rope ladder and concluded that this too was dangerous.
As
I continue writing I hear the sound of a siren on a police car or
ambulance. This is so common around here as to cause no interest.
Road accidents are a commonplace. You may already have got my point.
Despite the fact that car travel is so risky for children and families,
the prevailing zeitgeist or spirit of the times has decreed that
in the interests of child protection little children should be guarded
from swings and rope ladders (and, it goes without saying, climbing
trees). And so these children find themselves prevented from all
the surprises, spills and knocks that come from exploring a few
feet above the ground and experiencing a universally attractive
form of pendulum and rhythmic movement (produced by a swing).
The
groups responsible for the children can demonstrate that they have
carried our risk assessments, and
no doubt the incidence of minor injuries may be marginally reduced.
Inspectors note all this seriously. And society, including the press
and politicians, is relieved of the need to call for and introduce
new guidance following an accident.
But
what of the long term effect on the children themselves? Has anyone
thought about this? Does anyone care? Have our professional horizons
become narrowed to the short term in the same way that Will Hutton
has argued that the markets have become increasing short-term focussed?
Possibly more importantly, is it possible to know this sort of thing?
Can you quantify the long-term effects of this sort of approach
and decision-making? Do the forms used allow consideration of the
long-term at all?
And
how does this compare with your childhood and mine, and that of
countless generations before us worldwide? I have been struck in
recent years by how often those a little older than me talk of World
War Two bombsites as the ideal places in which to play: plenty of
space and room for the imagination; lots of raw materials and no
adult supervision unless you started throwing bricks at glass houses!
I
have argued before that in the long term children are being deprived
of that essential aspect of human development: the ability to assess
and take risks, to experiment and to learn from your mistakes. (For
the record, in something like thirty years I can recall no serious
accidents on these particular swings and in this tree house at the
top of the rope ladder.) And of course there is the unintentional
consequence that television and the Internet, game boys and mobile
phones will be seen as somehow safer options. Has anyone made the
link with lack of physical activity and obesity? I think so!
In my experience parents are perfectly happy for children to explore
and play in this physical way as long as the overall environment
is safe from bullying and unwanted strangers. But the garden I am
describing is very safe in these respects, so we are talking simply
about the way our society constructs aspects of physical space for
children.
You
will have gathered that I find this whole tendency towards such
“protection” short sighted and obsessive. As a sociologist
I agree with Ulrich Beck’s analysis that we can be defined
as a “risk society” (the 
meaning
of this is a little complicated and discussion of it out of place
in this context!). But I fail to see a way out of the “iron
cage” (to use Max Weber’s term) that we are finding
ourselves in. It seems that the fear of litigation at the slightest
accident while children are in some officially controlled space
outweighs all other considerations. Have we asked whether there
are proper limits to risk assessment?
If
you are interested in this line of argument I would be happy to
develop the sociology on another occasion. If not, let me know how
you think this will affect children in later life.
Meanwhile
I head off for Kuala Lumpur and Penang, hoping that while I’m
away some of the children will find a way on to the swings and rope
ladder. Oh yes, now I remember: I used to climb the tree (right
to the top, I mean), and we had varieties of home-made swings involving
ropes and old tyres. How did we ever come to prevent a generation
experimenting as I did?
Keith J. White lives and cares for children and young people
in Mill Grove where his family has lived for four generations.
Since 1899 it has been a family home where children unable
to live with their own parents have been welcomed
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