Pity Britain's parents. Their son is obese, their daughter dresses like a tart, their toddler fusses at meals. And they seem unable to do anything about it.
Again and again, statistics and surveys show that Britain's children are out of control - and from their earliest days. Last week, Mother & Baby magazine revealed that 84 per cent of parents interviewed said their children regularly threw tantrums, 44 per cent admitted their toddlers hit other children, 53 per cent said they 'fiddled with electrical plugs and sockets', and 75 per cent said their children were fussy eaters.
Fussy eaters? One meal where they're sent to bed without watching telly because they left their spinach should teach the little mite not to fuss. And as for fiddling with electricity: a smart rap on the knuckles should have given the little one a painful association with all plugs and sockets.
Yet the survey's evidence of repeat offences proves that Mum and Dad failed to warn, scold or punish their offspring into any sort of discipline. More and more, parents tiptoe around their child as if she were a prized guest staying at their hotel and they were fearful of losing her custom.
They'll cook for her, clean up after her, enrol her in yoga for toddlers and supply her with designer towels, but they won't tell her to stop eating that Krispy Kreme doughnut or to switch off the telly and go outside to run around.
Today's parents wimp out because they lack the confidence to exert authority over their offspring. The same Mother & Baby survey that unveiled the terrible tots also revealed that more than half their mothers described themselves as 'despairing and depressed'.
Such fatalism inspires the media and government to follow suit: children's behaviour, learning abilities and even size are discussed and analysed as if they were part of a trend over which parents have no control. When a child throws a tantrum or weighs more than a baby elephant, society no longer blames the parent, but turns on the food, media and advertising industries.
It is as if in our new global market-place, no one now believes that parents can control the gateway to their children. It is no good your saying 'no' to that fizzy drink if on the telly and every billboard, your daughter is confronted with kids of her age drinking the stuff. This argument undermines parental authority - little parent powerless against big business.
Only a generation ago, a father felt entitled to bark orders and belt the child who disobeyed him. Today's parents think that their every demand is open to discussion. No one wants to return to the days of spanking and belting; on the other hand, why are parents so riddled with self-doubt that they daren't lay down rules? One reason is that the pressure to produce the perfect child has grown with the increase in testing and competition for school places.
Where once a child's development was pretty much a family matter, it has now become a question for the state: does she meet educational standards; is he worthy of a place in a specialist school; are her results good enough to secure her a place at the school of parental choice?
Many mothers and fathers find this constant measurement of their children's performance a test of their own abilities to train and discipline and inspire. If Junior is found wanting, so are they.
In the end, wimpy parents deserve only so much sympathy. Their fears turn their children into tiny terrors. And one day, these terrors will grow up.
What a jolly good egg
Michael Howard has displayed great acumen in appointing the brilliant and unassuming Stephen Sherbourne as his chief of staff. Stephen's skills were honed during his years of working at No 10 for Margaret Thatcher. Mrs T's regime was strict and tough, but Stephen has always been able to make the best of even the worst moments. This stood him in good stead on a day trip to Cardiff during the miners' strike. At the last minute, departure time for the trip had to be changed and Stephen found himself called out of the house before he could breakfast. Stomach rumbling, he accompanied Mrs T on a helicopter ride to Wales, then to a hall for a speech, and on to a gathering of party faithful. For security reasons, the planned lunch had to be skipped and, at 2pm, Stephen was sitting next to Mrs T in the hot official car (this was July), driving past angry miners who waved placards and threw eggs at the passing car. When they arrived at the helicopter pad, Stephen got out of the car and, to his joy, saw two eggs frying on the bonnet. 'Breakfast!' he cheered, and tucked in.
Monkey business
Who can complain of dumbing-down Britain when debates and dialogues are setting learned tongues wagging all over London? Over the past few days, you could have attended an Intelligence Squared debate on the war on terrorism, an Economist debate on biodiversity and a 'conversazione' at the British Academy that revisited the 1860 encounter (much inflated) between Samuel Wilberforce, Bishop of Oxford, and T.H. Huxley. On that occasion, Bishop Wilberforce had sought to dismiss, once and for all, the new theory of evolution. He asked, in the most mocking of tones, the young scientist Huxley whether it was on his grandfather's or grandmother's side that he claimed descent from a monkey. Huxley replied that he was not ashamed to have a monkey as an ancestor, but he would be ashamed to be connected with a man who used his great gifts to obscure the truth. (So terrible was this rebuttal that a lady fainted and had to be carried out.) Last Thursday, noted philosopher John Lucas and historian Janet Brown took up the parts of the bishop and the scientist respectively. They engaged in their duel - religion versus science - before an appreciative audience that included 100 descendants of monkeys, two of Bishop Wilberforce, one of T.H. Huxley and one woman who had married a Huxley and been born a Darwin.
· Cristina Odone is deputy editor of the New Statesman
