Rousseau’s Julie and brushing over differences

“Reading Rousseau’s Julie can be a disconcerting experience, with wonderful and appalling ideas even in the same sentence.”
– Sarah Fitz-Claridge

From the archives: The original post was posted on 8th January, 1997

Sometimes, in the interests of peace or for other good motives, people brush over their differences instead of scrutinising them and discussing them directly. This is particularly so in parenting, where this phenomenon is so strong that one might reasonably call it a taboo. The effect of this taboo is to stifle the criticism which is necessary for the growth of knowledge. Among other things, this is harmful to children, because parents’ ideas about child-rearing do not improve as rapidly as they might otherwise.

Perhaps if we had been reading Rousseau in his time, we might have thought that his writings on education and child-rearing contain so much that is strikingly good, that it would be churlish to point out that he also says some bad things. Now that time has passed, and things have changed, reading Emile or Julie can be rather a disconcerting experience, with wonderful and appalling ideas even in the same sentence.

In Julie, by Jean-Jaques Rousseau, published in 1761, Julie, Madame de Wolmar, says this, which if not scrutinised too closely seems very much in tune with our non-coercive ideas–

“When I took my first child in my arms, I reflected that childhood is almost a quarter of the longest life. We rarely reach the remaining three-quarters; and it is cruel forethought to sacrifice the happiness of this first portion to that of a remainder which will perhaps never be ours. I felt that nature subjects poor helpless children to so many restrictions that it is cruelty to impress a further restraint by our caprices and to take from them the little liberty which they possess and which they have so few opportunities to misuse. I resolved to spare my own all the restraint I could, to leave him complete freedom to use his scanty powers and not to thwart any of his natural inclinations. By this course I have already gained two great advantages: one, that I have saved his young mind from deceit, vanity, anger, and jealousy, and from all the vices, in short, which result from slavery and which we cannot avoid instilling in our efforts to enforce obedience… I am afraid of this fatal anxiety which enervates and enfeebles a child by constant precautions, torments him with constant constraint, enslaves him with a host of useless safeguards, and eventually exposes him all his life to those inevitable dangers from which it is anxious for the moment to preserve him…”¹

—but then Julie goes on to explain that–

“I saw that, if I tried to satisfy all his fancies [whims], these fancies would increase with my indulgence, that there must come a point at which I should be compelled to stop, and that he would then take a refusal to heart all the more because he was unaccustomed to it. I could not save him all disappointment before he reached the age of reason; so I chose the least and most transient form. Since a single refusal involves the least cruelty, I determined to refuse at once; and in order to spare him long unhappiness, complaint, and waywardness, to make every refusal irrevocable. It is true that I refuse as little as possible and think twice before refusing at all. Whenever I grant his requests, I grant them without conditions and as soon as he asks; and we grant them freely. But he never obtains a request by importunity—tears and wheedling are equally useless. He knows this so well that he no longer tries… If anything is taken from him, he merely considers it impossible that he should keep it; if a request is refused, he merely thinks it impossible that he should obtain it… In all his disappointments he sees the power of the necessity and the result of his own weakness, never the effect of the ill-will of others.”²

“The cause of children’s ill-temper is the attention which we pay to it; and this is the same whether we grant or refuse their requests…. So long as we notice their tears, they have a reason for continuing; when they see that no one cares, they will soon improve; for no one, old or young, cares to take useless pains.”³

“In a word, the only way to make them submit to reason is never to reason with them, but thoroughly to convince them that reasoning is beyond their powers… When, therefore, I refuse a request of my children, I do not argue with them, I do not tell them why I am unwilling to grant it, but I find ways, as far as is possible, to let them discover the reason, sometimes after the event.”⁴

“On the same principle I shall never allow my children to join in the conversation of reasonable people, and foolishly imagine they are on an equality with them because they tolerate their silly prattle. I wish them to answer briefly and modestly when they are asked questions, but never to speak until they are spoken to, and particularly not to ask foolish questions of their elders whom they ought to respect.”⁵

And so on. Now notice that even in the first paragraph, if we were to read it carefully, there would be a few question marks—a few things that it would be better not to brush over but raise for discussion.⁶ All parents believe in using the minimum of coercion—but what that means is that they believe in using the minimum amount necessary to get the child to do their bidding, or that they will only use coercion when the child disobeys. So it isn’t wise to brush over the differences. The words can sound similar, but the meanings may be very different from each other.⁷

Notes (added 2025)

1. This translation is by R. L. Archer, 1912, Rousseau on Education, II: Extract from “Julie” or “La Nouvelle Héliose”, p. 36. In William Kendrick’s 1761 translation (Eloisa: or, a series of original letters collected and published by J. J. Rousseau), this bit is in volume 3 on page 229. In the annotated translation by Philip Stewart and Jean Vaché, 1997, Julie, or the New Heloise: Letters of two lovers who live in a small town at the foot of the Alps, (Dartmouth College Press, 9780874518252), this bit can be found in Part Five, pp. 465-466 (Part Five (Pl., II, 566–568))

2. In R. L. Archer, 1912, Rousseau on Education, II: Extract from “Julie” or “La Nouvelle Héliose”, pp. 40-41. In the translation by Philip Stewart and Jean Vaché (Dartmouth College, 1997), this bit can be found in Part Five, pp. 468-469 (Part Five (Pl., II, 570–572))

3. In R. L. Archer, 1912, Rousseau on Education, II: Extract from “Julie” or “La Nouvelle Héliose”, p. 41. In the translation by Philip Stewart and Jean Vaché (Dartmouth College, 1997), this bit can be found in Part Five, p. 469 (Part Five (Pl., II, 571–573))

4. In R. L. Archer, 1912, Rousseau on Education, II: Extract from “Julie” or “La Nouvelle Héliose”, pp. 42-43. In the translation by Philip Stewart and Jean Vaché (Dartmouth College, 1997), this bit can be found in Part Five, p. 470 (Part Five (Pl., II, 571–573))

5. In R. L. Archer, 1912, Rousseau on Education, II: Extract from “Julie” or “La Nouvelle Héliose”, p. 43. In the translation by Philip Stewart and Jean Vaché (Dartmouth College, 1997), this bit can be found in Part Five, p. 470 (Part Five (Pl., II, 571–573))

6. Amusingly, in saying (merely) “a few question marks”, I myself was minimising and brushing over my differences with the ‘good’ bit I quoted first. It is all written from the old paternalistic view of children. It is all about how she, the authority, manages her charge, the child, like a prison officer being kinder to the inmates. Taking Children Seriously is not about being kinder to your charges, it is about families thriving without authority. It is a new view of children—one that is free of the paternalism. The old view still shared by most people is anomalous: an exception to the wider values of our society (the universal rights and freedoms, etc) is made for children, just like in the past, exceptions were made for women and black people. That anomaly does not make sense. It is a blindspot in our culture. When it comes to adults, being a rights holder is not about how much they know, or whether they are independent. Children are full people. They are moral agents in their own right. They are sovereign individuals whose lives are their own. Channelling children into our agenda that is independent of and impervious to their wishes is treating them as a means to our ends. That is a mistake: they have their own ends. Taking Children Seriously is about giving children all the assistance and support and protection and information that they welcome, without managing, moulding and shaping them from above.

7. In my enthusiasm to explore such differences, my wording in this post may well have created the misapprehension that I meant that people should share my interest in exploring differences whether such explorations seem interesting to them or not. Or that I am advocating self-coercion or coercive education of others. That is not what I think. Coercion anywhere in the system, including within your own mind, is inimical to the growth of knowledge. My intention was merely to point out that there is this tendency to brush over differences, and that maybe you might find it fun to explore possible differences instead. When you assume that the differences are not significant, then you might not be pondering possible differences to understand your own and the other person’s thinking better. For example, you might well think some mainstream parenting books are taking children seriously when they really aren’t. (Some people were surprised I was critical of books by Alfie Kohn, Shefali Tsabary, and others, in this talk, for example.) Moreover, there are differences between people favouring taking children seriously. Differences, perhaps especially subtle ones, suggest hitherto unsolved problems. By identifying differences, making bold conjectures about them, checking the conjectures and dropping any which do not stand up to critical scrutiny, we may reach a new understanding that seems preferable to us, and perhaps to others too.

See also:

Sarah Fitz-Claridge, 1997, ‘Rousseau’s Julie and brushing over differences’, https://takingchildrenseriously.com/rousseaus-julie-and-brushing-over-differences