A couple throws a birthday party for their four-year old son. Mom is in the kitchen so Dad is outside minding all the little ones. By day, Dad is a powerhouse financier: Palatial office on the 500th floor, a zillion dollars at his command, underneath him an army of junior financiers who fear and respect their boss. In the world of business, Dad in short is a Master of the Universe, so for the sake of his privacy I will nickname him MOTU.
As the adults sit in the sun, MOTUâ€™s son runs over to the remains of his birthday cake and grabs the very sharp knife that was used to cut it. Alarmingly, he then begins running around and chasing the other children with it, doing an impression of Jack Sparrow the swashbuckling pirate. The other adults turn to stare at MOTU.
Feeling their disapproving gaze, MOTU mumbles his sonâ€™s name and weakly voices some half-hearted request. He is ignored. Then a mother of another child tells MOTUâ€™s child in a firm voice to put the knife back immediately, and he complies. MOTU is shocked, and stares at her helplessly with a look that says â€œHow did you do that?â€.
I have known a number of MOTUs, some of them socially and some of them through my work as a mental health professional. I find them puzzling in that they are generally smart and competent people who have no difficulty exercising power at work but for some reason cannot begin to exercise parental authority at home. The respected judge who can decide whether an offender goes to prison for 5 or 10 years cannot decide when her daughter should go to bed. The skilled physician who spends all day telling his patients what to eat, how to exercise and what pills to consume cannot seem to tell his children that no, they cannot have chocolate cake at breakfast.
At least three things seem to be getting in the way of these people exercising the authority that is required for effective parenting.
Exhaustion: This is MOTUâ€™s primary complaint. He says that his 70-hour high stress work weeks leave him insufficient energy to set limits with his son, so itâ€™s not really his fault. Although this is true of the situation as it stands, it only draws so much sympathy as a justification. A single mom who takes the bus to KFC at 5am each day to start her 12 hour shift has no choice but to be tired most of the time. But highly successful professional people such as MOTU have more ability to work fewer or different hours if work fatigue is seriously impairing their ability to parent.
Guilt: An acquaintance who is a division chief at a large hospital (Letâ€™s call him â€œDr. Yesâ€) rationalizes â€œBecause I am at the office so much I see my children very little and I want to make that up to them somehow, so when I am with them I give them whatever they wantâ€. Dr. Yesâ€™ kids are intolerably rude and selfish as a result, to the point that other children and parents avoid their company. Thus, like the exhaustion argument, this explanation makes some sense on the surface but doesnâ€™t survive closer inspection, because what Dr. Yes is saying essentially is â€œBecause I hurt my children through never being around, I make it up to them by hurting them further with a destructively lenient approach to parentingâ€.
Confusing authority with authoritarianism: No one wants to be an â€œauthoritarianâ€. Thatâ€™s the term people apply to dictators and thugs (and bullying parents). Many parents like MOTU and Dr. Yes seem to feel that setting rules is inherently authoritarian and will damage their offspring or make them hate their parents. This is a failure to distinguish authoritarianism from authority. I use an analogy to illustrate the difference, which some struggling parents find useful:
You are on plane for a trip to St. Louis and the captain comes on the speaker as you board. He says â€œI know you all have bought tickets for St. Louis, but Iâ€™m flying to Chicago because I donâ€™t care what you wantâ€. Youâ€™d be outraged and would leave the plane in response to such authoritarianism.
Imagine instead that the pilot said â€œWelcome to our flight to St. Louis. We will fly at an altitude of 32,000 feet. But maybe that isnâ€™t a good idea, what do you think is a good altitude? Also, I have been trained to do something with the flaps right after takeoff to prevent a crash, but maybe thatâ€™s a bad idea â€“ what do you think I should do?â€. Again, youâ€™d leave the plane, even though unlike the first pilot this fellow is being incredibly solicitous of your views. Youâ€™d leave because you donâ€™t want to make those decisions; thatâ€™s the pilotâ€™s job. He has legitimate authority based on his expertise and knowledge and you expect him to exercise it.
Likewise, itâ€™s frightening to children to perceive that the adult upon whom their life literally depends doesnâ€™t know what heâ€™s doing. When a parent seems flummoxed by the most basic setting of structure and rules, or meekly consults the child upon decisions that are properly the parentâ€™s alone to make, the child wants to get off the plane because they have no faith in the pilot. They canâ€™t get off of course, so they respond by being anxious, truculent, and disrespectful. In that way failure to exercise parental authority feeds itself as the child becomes more difficult to manage. On the positive side, when these parents learn to start exercising authority they are pleasantly surprised to find that their children are ultimately happier rather than sadder and appreciate their parents more rather than less.