One of my most enduring childhood memories is watching Edith Nesbit’s The Railway Children masterfully brought to cinematic life by the loving hand of Lionel Jeffries. The film’s denouement brought my 7-year-old self to tears (and still does), but it was not until recently that I fully understood why. Watching the steam unfurl along the platform of Oakworth Station, as the disbelieving Jenny Agutter is reunited with her beloved papa, my younger self couldn’t help but identify with her. Now, as a father of two daughters, I am convinced it was Mr. Waterbury who had the better ending of the pair; being the cause of the beautiful cry “Daddy, my Daddy!” No matter how bad a workday I may have had, those precious seconds when I turn the key in the front door and hear the jubilant shouts of “Daddy!” make it all worthwhile.
There is, I believe, something utterly sacred about fatherhood, which cannot be understood by any other soul but a father’s. This is not of course to demean the labours of single mothers, who courageously and thanklessly perform the function of both parents (nor to suggest that maternity is not similarly exclusive). I merely suggest that the role of father is so primordial, that it can transform even the most effete pansy into a hero; and it is here that I speak from experience.
The odd break from character notwithstanding, I consider myself an inveterate coward of the first water. I am selfish to the point of absurdity, and spent almost the entirety of my twenties and thirties living a sort of Peter Pan existence. That life was checked in 2017, when I first became a father. And while no one could sensibly argue I no longer display those traits, I have unquestionably changed. Even to the hedonist, the vicarious pleasure of your child’s first steps, first word, first ‘Dadda’ feels almost illegal. While the rough and tumble play, the shoulder carries, and the cradling in your arms are an honour one could never truly earn.
However, accompanying the arrival of children, there is the unmistakable sense of finality. “You miss the little people they used to be,” a wise friend once advised me; already I fear the day when that occurs. There is also the first taste of mortality. Going in for a back operation a few years ago, I was terrified I would die and leave them to fend for themselves. Feeble as I am, I am as certain as I could ever be that I would die for them at the drop of a hat.
Forgotten fathers
Sadly, times change. The film’s release in 1970 is a lifetime away for most of us, only enhanced by the book’s 1906 Edwardian setting. While society clearly still values mothers, it seems to have forgotten the benefits of fathers. Instead of the wonderful characters of Perks, Mr Waterbury, and The Old Gentleman, masculinity has become ‘toxic’; caricatured as ‘the patriarchy, which is allegedly responsible for all societal ills, and the answer to none of them. This is a cruel and dishonest representation.
While it may be difficult to pinpoint the principle cause of the attack on masculinity, it seems perfectly reasonable to assert that Western societies are no longer celebrating fathers or the family. Marriage rates are falling while single-parent families rise to a quarter—80% of which are families without fathers. An aggressive form of feminism which eschews traditional roles for women is commonplace, as is the assault on gender confusing so many young people. Why would anyone aspire to the role of fatherhood, when according to society, it doesn’t mean anything?
Digging a little deeper into the statistics paints an equally bleak picture of paternity. Worrying research suggests that the number of male high school students who never want to have children has tripled in the last two decades. The majority of the literature indicates that parental instincts are now tempered by concerns that raising children is harder now than it used to be. Pew Research data of non-parents under the age of 50, reveals that 56% of those who do not think they will have children cite “not wanting to” as the reason. Of the remainder, 19% cite medical reasons, 17% financial fears, and 9% the state of the world.
It is also clear however, that ‘selfish’ and alarmist attitudes are on the rise. An increasing number of Gen Z are making the decision not to have children, with a view to retiring early and putting less strain on an overpopulated planet. This is accompanied by an increase in child-free influencers, who are promoting the benefits of a life without children.
Drawing conclusions about the influence of Western social mores upon the family is further complicated by an examination of the birth rates, because the situation appears even more dire in the East. While the UK fertility rate is just 1.55 (far shy of the necessary 2.1 to maintain population levels), that pales into insignificance when one considers Japan’s rate of 1.34, or China’s rate of 1.15. The Japanese youth are busy rejecting marriage en masse, while the Chinese are already talking about the last generation. Clearly then, this is not merely a Western phenomenon.
A return to traditional values may be a fruitless hope, but how much better would the West look if that could somehow be achieved? What would happen to knife crime in London if absentee fathers started taking responsibility for their sons? How much improvement would there be to discipline in schools, were the patriarchy still in charge at home? How much more resistance would there be to the trans movement if every child had the security of a loving mother and father?
When I first became a dad, a close friend of mine confided in me how glad she was that I was now “living properly.” I was a little offended at first, but now I think I know what she meant. I feel genuinely sorry for those men who may never get the chance to be fathers, and to enjoy their Railway Children moments (as I am about to do). I also pity the children who are no longer being told these timeless stories: they may never know what they’re missing.
If you get the chance this weekend, why not re-watch this classic with your children? Your grandchildren will thank you for it.
