Research, research and more research. It seems as though every other day the results of another survey hit the headlines, providing handy little “news in briefs” (by which I don’t mean Jeremy Paxman in his underpants grilling the Home Secretary for Children in Need, although it’s an engaging image) to take us to the top of the hour, or fill in the gaps around the newspaper ads. Red wine is good for your heart; broccoli wards off cancer; women who listen to the Scissor Sisters while pregnant are more likely to give birth to Judy Garland fans (OK, I made that last one up). At any given time there is any number of so-called experts out there, often self-proclaimed, often sponsored by interested parties, conducting “research” designed to elicit a certain result — usually one that can be spun by the nearest public relations person into a “news” story.
Some time ago, the general public wised up to this, and learnt to take it all with a pinch of salt. With the notable exception of the Daily Mail, which will work up a double-page spread out of the most spurious gobbet of bogus academia (or a four-part special if it happens to involve teenage pregnancy or the wickedness of “have-it-all women”), journalists in particular are wary of anything that could be misinterpreted, misconstrued or misappropriated. Sadly, it would appear that the same is not true of the Government.
On Tuesday, quite the most ridiculous piece of research-inspired nonsense emanated from Whitehall, via something called the Childcare Bill. Instead of a sensible set of proposals for making good childcare more available and more affordable, we got something called the Early Years Foundation Stage. An extension of the already demanding national curriculum (the one that has been causing nervous breakdowns in hollow-eyed eight-year-olds for some time now), this latest piece of regulation aims to impose structured learning on babies aged nought to 3. In theory, a child who is not yet able to sit unaided, speak or ingest solids is going to be expected to express “joy, sadness, frustration and fear, leading to the development of strategies to cope with new, challenging or stressful situations”. Assuming that either the child or its carers can fathom what this means, the former is then going to be required to perform the above for the benefit of state inspectors. Great. Hey, Junior, no pressure, but now that you have been breathing on your own for almost 12 hours, isn’t it time that you started working up those recognition skills? What’s that you say? More milk? Milk is for wimps! How about flashcards?
Now I’m not about to bore on about the sanctity of childhood, but only because nought to 3 is not childhood, it’s babyhood. It’s the one brief window of opportunity where it is perfectly OK to eat sand, suck people’s noses and shout “I haven’t got a willie!” at complete strangers in the street. It is, and should remain, as spontaneous as possible. It is certainly no place for invasive legislation (under the proposals childminders and nurseries will be under a legal obligation to teach this wretched Early Years Foundation Stage). And it’s certainly no place for politics.
Mothers don’t need the Government to make them competitive and paranoid about their babies’ development. We already manage that very well on our own. Assuming that one’s nerves survive the gruelling series of tests that now define the various stages of pregnancy, the range of edifying activities open to preschoolers is frankly terrifying. Baby yoga, baby French, baby signing, aqua-babies, baby ballet, potty training, crafty babies, baby massage — all these classes and more thrive wherever the mighty Maclaren roams the streets. It seems that the defining trait of our generation of parents is to obsess about every tiny aspect of our children’s development. In part, it’s the legacy of this generation of working mothers: too busy, too guilt-ridden, too controlling. But it’s also the product of too many experts and their wretched research.
As a person who hated every aspect of school in all its institutionalised unpleasantness, I am dreading the day when my children have to take their first serious tests. If I could teach them myself, I would, but I suppose it would be wrong to impose my negative experiences on them — and besides, I’m hopeless at geography. But I do think that they should be allowed to be babies for as long as it takes for them not to be. To paraphrase my daughter (aged 2): Beverley Hughes, you and your new rules are a smelly poo.
Bombastic blasts get men selected
Listening to the two Tory Davids setting out their appeal to female voters on Woman’s Hour was less excruciating than their other head-to-heads so far, not least because for once they were actually discussing issues that interest me. Leaving aside childcare, the problem of the Tory party consisting predominately of rotund, white middle-aged men with a tendency to quiver around the chops when excited is something the next leader will have to address, like it or not.
In particular, the abyss between Tory and Labour in respect of female MPs is undeniable, and unacceptable in the long term given, as Cameron pointed out, that 52 per cent of the population is female. And yet, how to rectify the situation in a democratic party in which candidates are chosen by local associations, rather than Central Office?
Both Davis and Cameron were, rightly, sceptical about all-woman shortlists. Not only are they patronising, they are also counter-productive in the long run: being an MP is extremely tough, and if you can’t cut the mustard in front of 200 tipsy Tories, you’ll be boo-hooing in the loos the minute the Chief Whip gives you your first dressing-down. Cameron, however, did make the point that the lack of women in the Tory party is partly because of the misogynistic nature of the selection process. Physiologically, the male of the species is designed for short bursts of intense energy; the female is more of a slow burner. There is no doubt that having to put one’s case in ten minutes of bombastic glory favours the self-assured white male over almost any other type of candidate.
Perhaps if the selection process were altered, associations would be better able to appreciate the potential of women in politics. Mind you, while the House of Commons remains a glorified men’s club with late-night drinking — sorry, voting — at least two, if not three, nights a week, it will be a long time before the imbalance of the sexes is truly rectified.
