This could be a huge post because the concept has multiple facets, so I may make this a multipart post, but starting at the beginning is not that simple because the concept is spiral, each generation being influenced by the one before it.
Nevertheless we have to start somewhere, so let us begin with childhood.
To a certain extent, a level of fear/respect is simply wired in by the biological need of a child to rely for its survival on its parents, but with respect to the concept of respect itself, the givers or producers of it are essentially almost entirely male.
This is why single parent households where children are raised by the mother alone end up with absolutely terrible outcomes when compared to single parent households where the children are raised by the father alone.
It’s not even close, and the statistics bear out similarly regardless of economic class, ethnicity, culture, race or pretty much any other factor.
Don’t take my word for it. Look it up yourself. On every metric that has been measured single fathers outperform single mothers in the outcomes of their children without question. Drug use, crime, future employment, etc. etc. are all abysmal for single mother outcomes compared to single father outcomes. The best results come from intact, man-and-wife families; but the gap between them and single father parenting is nowhere near as large as between intact husband and wife families when compared to single mother parenting.
It is my contention that is due to the ability of men, in general, to request, require, impose, and teach respect in their offspring to a degree that women, in general, are essentially incapable of doing.
I would put the gap at something like the same gap you may have in sports performance between men and women. In something like say, weightlifting. Or sprinting. Or long distance running. You get the idea.
Respect, etymologically comes from Latin and can be summed up as re-flection (of yourself).
In other words, despite its pre-Christian origins, the concept linked to respect is very much the action or thought of considering the other person as you would prefer to be considered.
Little children rarely have much of this because they are in exploration-survival mode, nevertheless, even before they could speak, all my children would spontaneously offer me and their mother food. The act of making them consider the proper place of things, and the proper actions and behaviours with regard to first if all their father, mother and siblings is an ongoing process but it begins, necessarily, with imperial-style edicts that if required are enforced by physical force.
They learn not to stick metal rods, forks and so on, inside sockets because they will have a bad experience before they get to do it. Whether that is a stern “No!” or if it needs to escalate to a smack on the hand, depends on the child in question. The alternative is to have the kid actually shove the knitting needle in the live socket, get a shock, and, if he is lucky, get stunned across the room and slammed into the opposite wall; as happened to me at age 2.
Yes, yes, there are socket protectors nowadays and so on, the point is the principle of the example, not the detail.
So the first thing a child necessarily needs to learn is unquestioning obedience of his… father. Because fathers are ultimately the enforcers. That’s just biology and life. A mother’s commands tend to be taken on more as suggestions and/or nagging. A father’s tend to be taken as the rules that have serious and instant consequences if not followed. In a two-parent home, this works relatively well because the mother is invariably the buffer between the child and daily reality (the world) as well as between the child and the father, who, by default is the enforcer of more serious rules (more extreme examples of the world).
In traditional roles, the father is also generally the somewhat the buffer between the world and the mother too. As a result, if the dad says “jump”, asking “how high? Where? Why?” Are all signs of a fundamental lack of attention, and thus also respect, both for others as well as for oneself.
To the (hypothetical and intentionally vague) command of “junp!” the natural question that should come to mind, but hopefully silently and inward directed is: “Where? How do I? What makes the most sense here given the situation and dad’s urgent command to jump?”
The classic example, which I could relate to perfectly from the father’s perspective, was a telling from the old twitter handle “Shit my dad says”, which was literally things a guy’s dad supposedly said. The example went like this:
Dad: did you see my mobile phone?
Son: No. (does nothing).
Dad: well get off your ass and help me find it.
Son: (Lazily, unwillingly) Oh-kaaayy… what does it look like?
Dad: It looks like two horses fucking. It’s a fucking phone, what the fuck do you think it looks like?!
Now, no doubt, all the “supernannies”, metrosexual “dads”, gay wannabe child traffickers, and other ass-sorted brand of “I’m my child’s best friend” spouters of turbofaggotry, will be up in arms claiming this kind of “upbringing” causes everything from radioactive leukaemia to PTSD that requires medication and multiple lobotomies to fix.
Which is, of course, complete bullshit, and the very reason why we have an escalating problem of emotional incontinence with kids that throw a tantrum if they can’t spend 8 hours on “their” ipad, girls putting on makeup at age six and imitating the vocal fry of YouTube influencers, and all the transgender mutilation of children and child trafficking for the “adoption” of babies by homosexuals, which more often than not end up sexually abused.
A typical exchange happened a few minutes ago in my home:
Eldest Daughter: I was playing with (the little Viking) and then [longwinded typically female over-detailed “explanation” that has no purpose at all other that to distract, and present her in the most innocent and pure light possible] … and he hit his head.
Me: how bad is it?
ED: Well he hit this part of it… (about to launch into another completely pointless “explanation”)
Me: (gives a look)
ED: well… he’s not crying…but…
Me: is he conscious?
ED: (slightly horrified) Yes!
Me: is he bleeding?
ED: no.
Me: Alright then.
Wife: (quietly goes to check on her little barbarian prince)
Me: (knows that boy will come whining only if actually hurt some, so there is nothing to concern myself with)
The instilling of a quasi-instant response to a command in children is quickly and almost immediately and mostly painlessly done if a father imposes it from the start. It tends to be a tedious, over lengthy and only partially successful and utterly detrimental to the child in the long run if it is constantly interrupted or countermanded by the mother.
In today’s mollycoddled globohmonculus “society” we also need to spell out that this imposition of discipline is not to be done by use of beatings with the belt and other such methods, obviously, but the occasional spanking is not to be ignored or avoided at all costs. The middle daughter only got one, and hasn’t needed a reminder since. She will tend to ignore or flaunt commands from her mother though, until a “hey!” From me.
Children need the firm line a father should provide, as well as the softer and occasional “escape“ the mother provides.
“Do you want me to call your father?!”
Should absolutely be enough for a child to get their arse in gear and do whatever the mother was telling them a few seconds earlier.
As they say, however, respect goes both ways. My wife often laments the fact that she is surrounded by a cloud of “Mommy? Mommy? Mommy?” sounds. And she is. But that’s also because each child on average needs to repeat him or herself five times before she replies to them.
In comparison, if one of them says “Daddy?” They almost always get an instant “yes?” or “not now” or “wait” as the case may be. F
Furthermore, the younger ones learn from the older ones. If the older one did need a butt smacking in their formative years, and now doesn’t anymore, the younger siblings will tend to react to the dad-look as if they too had received one. The famous experiment with chimps, a banana at the top of a pyramid of boxes and freezing water every time a chimp tries to get it is essentially the same.
If, on the other hand, your eldest is a spoilt brat that is disrespectful, you can expect the others to follow suit.
To this relatively simple and straightforward dynamic (as far as humans go, anyway) there are, obvious exceptions, pitfalls, and so on, but in the last couple of decades these have exploded into a veritable chaos of modernity and total lack of knowledge on the part of modern parents on how to raise well-balanced children that become decent adults. And again, you only need to look around to see the degradation that has happened in every sphere of life, helped along at breakneck speed by the usual suspects, aided and abetted by the boomer instilled non-ethics.
So young parents, even if they have the best of intentions, will tend to flounder like drowning rats. Either copying boomer methods (disastrous) over compensating and being too rigid or strict or being too libertine and “intellectual” in their approach. While a lot smarter, little kids are like puppies in many respects, and it is not difficult to train them to not crap all over the house if you do it from the get go. But it gets harder as they get older.
So the importance of respect begins in childhood, and it applies not only to the attitude they will have towards others, but also the attitude they will have with themselves. When I am wrong, I say so to my children and apologise if I treated them unfairly because of it.
It doesn’t need to be a large speech when you are teaching then right from wrong and neither does it need to be when you admit a mistake. But this way, they learn their voice too counts.
Later in life I tend to teach them too to never put anyone else’s ideas above their own.
Know the rules and follow the good ones and don’t get caught breaking the bad ones. Justice and ethics above law. But law above chaos.
And by the time they are adults, I hope to have helped make them capable people who can survive anything and thrive under almost all conditions while never losing sight of who they are or compromising it.
Nor be afraid to fight for the right reasons.
It starts at birth, and today is becoming a rare thing to meet someone that respects the good and himself, and rejects the bad while retaining his internal moral compass and self-respect.
And finally, it is true that you might start with respect for all, but very quickly, you will soon discover who earns the right to continue being respected, and who does not.
Without Glitter
Dramatis Personae
Kurgan Father (KF): Me
Kurgan Mother (KM): Wife
Piglet: 3 girl
Little Viking (LV): 5 boy
Monkey: 9 girl
Scorpio Girl (SG): 12 girl
Turtle: 1 girl
Handsome Innocent Host (HIH): Father of 2
Beautiful Innocent Host (BIH): Wife of HIH and mother of their 2 boys
Doggie: very friendly black female dog
Exterior Early evening. The adults are having a pleasant round of drinks under a gazebo in the warm evening air in a well kept garden, and having entertaining conversation. The children have all been playing with each other and the dog, while occasionally passing by the table for a drink or snack.
The two older girls naturally playing and being interested in the boys who are their own age. Piglet has mostly been playing fetch with the dog and her and Turtle tend to get the occasional facewash from the enthusiastic dog.
The children also disappear from time to time down a rather steep escarpment on the edge of the property and periodically pop back up.
Suddenly, the peaceful scene is interrupted by a shocking announcement.
Monkey: Piglet is just weeing down there.
Adults… shocked silence for a few seconds.
KF: Did she take her knickers off?
Monkey: Yes.
KF: Okay, well, that’s something.
SG: She pooed.
KF & KM: (Look at each other, aghast)
KF: Pooed, are you sure?
Monkey: Yes, Little Viking and Piglet are just sitting there talking to each other while Piglet poos.
KM: (takes out wet wipes)
KF: (grabs them and places them in front of KM): Your daughter!
KM (With the face of the most long-suffering madonna): Really?
KF (Assess… It’s real pain in her eyes. The migraine she briefly mentioned before must still be ongoing): Alright. (Takes wet wipes and one of the plastic bags for used nappies and heads towards steep escarpment)
KM: I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with her!
HIH and BIH (in unison, talking over each other):
Oh don’t worry about it! It’s all normal and natural. All in nature! We have a dog and chickens, the whole area is covered in poo of some kind, it’s all part of nature!
KM: I think if you step on that nature she left somewhere down the escarpment you’ll feel differently about it!
BIH: Oh don’t worry we don’t go down there.
Meanwhile….
KF (taking careful steps down a steep and dusty incline, so as to avoid sliding into whatever gift of nature his Piglet daughter left in the area. Sees Piglet near a tree): Stay where you are, let’s clean your butt. (Wipes her clean).
Why have you got dust all over your butt? Did you sit down in the dirt to Poo?
Piglet (proudly): Yeth (she has a slight lisp)
KF: But… why? How? Never mind, don’t tell me. (Looks around).
Piglet: It’s right there. (Points to a small mound of dirt at the base of a large olive tree)
KF: You buried it?
Piglet (still proudly): Yeth!
KF: All right. (Picks up mound of human shit rolled in dirt with plastic bag and puts used wet wipes in it and ties it up.)
Piglet (knickers and trainers are both covered in pee too, but she remains fiercely proud of her achievement) I did a stinky turd!
KF (Shakes head while dragging Piglet up the steep escarpment): Why didn’t you say you needed the toilet?
Piglet: But dad! I did a stinky turd!
KF (Closes eyes. Contemplates discussing with KM the use of the vernacular “stinky turd” at home)
Go to your mother and find out if she has a change for you.
KM invariably does have a spare change for her. But not for the pissy shoes, so Piglet goes barefoot from then on. Her brother LV never used his slip-ons and was already shoeless.
FIN
We don’t have a lot of friends. But the few we have are the kind who take you child doing a stinky turd in a part of their garden as a small delivery of fertiliser instead of the act of a quasi feral barbarian masquerading as a sweet little girl that it is.
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By G | 5 August 2024 | Posted in Farming Life, Humour, Social Commentary