rethinking childhood starts with a big question: what does it mean to be a child? it seems simple—like asking what makes a good cup of coffee—but dig deeper, and you’re wading into a philosophical quagmire. for centuries, thinkers have wrestled with how to define childhood, often pinning it as a distinct phase of life, a stepping stone to the “real deal” of adulthood. but here’s the kicker: what if that whole framework is shaky? what if the way we carve up human life into neat little stages—childhood here, adulthood there—doesn’t hold up under scrutiny? in this post, i’m diving into the idea of childhood not as a fixed category but as something more fluid, challenging the traditional life-stage models that dominate how we think about kids. this isn’t about throwing out the baby with the bathwater (pun intended); it’s about asking whether our assumptions about childhood align with the principles of fairness and freedom we claim to value.
let’s start with the basics. most of us grew up with a pretty standard picture of childhood: it’s that time when you’re small, a bit clueless, and need grown-ups to steer you through life. it’s the “training wheels” phase—cute, chaotic, and temporary. philosophers, psychologists, and lawmakers have long leaned on this idea, treating childhood as a life stage with its own rules, separate from the adult world. but when you zoom out, this setup raises some big questions. why do we draw these lines? what makes someone a child instead of an adult? and does slapping a label on a group of people justify treating them differently? these aren’t just academic navel-gazing exercises—they matter because how we define childhood shapes everything from education policies to voting rights. so, let’s unpack three popular ways folks have tried to pin down childhood and see if they hold water—or if they’re more like a house of cards in a stiff breeze.
first up is what i’ll call the “sapling” view. picture a tiny tree, not yet tall or sturdy, but destined to become a mighty oak. that’s how this model sees kids: as mini-adults in the making. it’s an old-school vibe—think Aristotle sipping wine and musing about how children are just “incomplete” humans, lacking the smarts or self-control to count as full players in society. fast forward to modern times, and you’ve got psychologists like piaget and kohlberg doubling down on this, arguing that kids move through rigid stages of brainpower and moral know-how until they hit the jackpot of adulthood. the logic here is teleological—fancy word, i know—meaning childhood has a built-in goal: grow up, get rational, join the adult club. it’s a bit like leveling up in a video game, except the final boss is taxes and existential dread.
this sapling idea has some intuitive appeal. kids do change a lot—physically, mentally, emotionally—as they age. but here’s where it gets dicey. if adulthood is the gold standard, and kids are just works-in-progress, does that mean they’re less human until they “arrive”? and who decides what “arrival” looks like? the sapling crew often points to rationality—your ability to think straight and make solid choices—as the ticket out of childhood. problem is, pinning down “rational enough” is like trying to nail jell-o to a wall. some 10-year-olds can outsmart adults in a debate, while plenty of grown-ups still act like they’re auditioning for a reality tv meltdown. plus, science tells us development isn’t a straight line—people grow, backslide, and zig-zag all through life, not just in some tidy “childhood” box. so, if the sapling model’s big sell is that kids need special treatment because they’re not “there” yet, it’s leaning on a foundation that’s more vibes than facts.
next, we’ve got the “intrinsic value” angle. this one flips the script, saying childhood isn’t about what kids will become—it’s about what they are right now. think of it as the rousseau remix: kids aren’t half-baked adults; they’re a whole different flavor of human, with their own quirks and strengths. playtime, curiosity, that wide-eyed wonder at the world—these aren’t just pit stops on the road to grown-up-ville; they’re valuable in their own right. philosophers like gheaus and macleod argue that childhood has its own “goods”—stuff that matters to kids in the moment, not just as prep for later. it’s a refreshing take, especially when you’re tired of hearing “kids are the future” like they’re some sci-fi prophecy. instead, this view says, “nah, kids are the present—deal with it.”
i dig this perspective because it puts kids front and center, not as shadows of their future selves. but it’s not all sunshine and rainbows. the catch is figuring out what these “childhood goods” are and why they’re so special. is play really a universal treasure for kids, or are we just romanticizing it because adults miss their sandbox days? and if we say kids deserve different treatment because of these unique traits, how do we draw the line between them and adults without sounding arbitrary? the intrinsic value folks don’t always nail down a clear cutoff—sometimes it’s about “vibes” again, not a solid threshold. worse, there’s a risk of boxing kids into a stereotype: “you’re a child, so you should love finger-painting and hate responsibility.” that feels less like liberation and more like a new kind of cage, especially if we’re imposing what we think kids should value instead of asking them. it’s a bit like telling women they’re “naturally” better at cooking—well-intentioned maybe, but it can slide into shaky territory fast.
finally, there’s the “pragmatic” approach, which is less about deep philosophy and more about keeping the world spinning. this one says, “look, we need a line between kids and adults, so let’s pick an age and roll with it.” it’s the legal system’s go-to: 18 means you’re an adult, end of story. the pitch here isn’t about biology or morality—it’s about efficiency. society needs rules to function, like speed limits or tax brackets, and age is an easy proxy. sure, a 17-year-old and an 18-year-old aren’t wildly different, but trying to judge every person’s “maturity” individually would be a logistical nightmare. imagine the chaos if every cop had to quiz you on your life skills before letting you drive. so, pragmatists argue, an age cutoff keeps things stable—parents know their role, kids know their limits, and the system doesn’t grind to a halt.
there’s a no-nonsense appeal to this. it’s less about what’s “true” and more about what works. but dig into it, and the cracks show. if age is just a stand-in for competence—say, your ability to vote or sign a contract—why not focus on competence itself? some teens are ready to run the world (or at least a lemonade stand), while some adults can barely run a dishwasher. the pragmatic model tries to dodge this by splitting “majority” (legal adulthood) from “licence” (specific rights, like driving). fair enough, but if all the juicy stuff—rights, freedoms, responsibilities—comes from licences, what’s left for “majority” to mean? it starts feeling like an empty title, a participation trophy for surviving 18 trips around the sun. and if competence is what really matters, why cling to this adult-child divide at all? it’s like keeping a flip phone in the smartphone era—functional, sure, but maybe we can do better.
justice without boxes: a new way forward
so, where does this leave us? all three models—sapling, intrinsic value, pragmatic—have their strengths, but they stumble when it comes to justifying why childhood should be a hard-and-fast category. the sapling view overplays adulthood as the finish line, ignoring how messy and varied human growth is. intrinsic value celebrates kids as they are but risks locking them into a script that might not fit. and the pragmatic take keeps the trains running but sacrifices depth for convenience. what they share is a reliance on life stages as the key to figuring out who gets what treatment. but what if that’s the wrong starting point? what if justice doesn’t need these generational buckets to work?
here’s my pitch: let’s ditch the obsession with life stages and focus on what actually matters—people’s real abilities and needs, no matter their age. instead of saying “you’re a child, so you get X,” or “you’re an adult, so you get Y,” we could ask, “what do you need to thrive, and what can you handle?” it’s less about pinning a label and more about tailoring justice to the individual. think of it like streaming your favorite show: you don’t care if it’s “season one” or “season five”—you just want the good stuff, customized to your vibe. for kids, this might mean more protection early on, sure, but it could also mean giving a sharp 14-year-old the vote if they’re ready, or shielding an adult with disabilities from responsibilities they can’t shoulder.
this isn’t some utopian free-for-all. we’d still need guidelines—society can’t function without some structure. but those guidelines could lean on competence and context, not arbitrary cutoffs. developmental science backs this up: people don’t flip a switch at 18 (or 21, or whatever). growth is a spectrum, not a staircase. and culturally, what “childhood” means shifts wildly—compare a 12-year-old herding cattle in one part of the world to one glued to tiktok in another. a flexible approach respects that diversity instead of forcing everyone into the same mold.
critics might say this sounds like a logistical headache—how do you test everyone’s “competence” without bogging down the system? fair point. but we already do versions of this: driving tests, bar exams, even job interviews. we could scale it up, maybe with tiered rights that unlock as you prove yourself, not as the calendar ticks. it’s not perfect, but it beats pretending age alone tells us who’s ready for what. plus, it sidesteps the moral mess of treating people unequally just because they’re on one side of a birthday. if liberalism is about freedom and equality, as we keep preaching, then tying justice to life stages feels like a relic we can outgrow.
does this mean childhood as a concept is toast? not quite. it’s still a handy shorthand, a way to flag that young humans often need extra care or different tools to flourish. but as a bedrock for moral or legal rules? nah, it’s too flimsy. think of it like gender: we’ve (mostly) ditched the idea that being male or female dictates your rights, even if biology still shapes some practical stuff. childhood could go the same way—a useful description, not a destiny. the goal isn’t to erase differences but to stop letting them dictate who counts as a full person.
in the end, rethinking childhood isn’t just about kids—it’s about all of us. it’s about building a world where justice doesn’t hinge on where you are in the life cycle but on who you are and what you can do. it’s a taller order than slapping an age limit on things, but it’s worth the stretch. because if we’re serious about fairness, we can’t keep boxing people in—whether they’re still in diapers or just trying to survive adulting.
reference:
brando, nicolás. childhood in liberal theory: equality, difference, and children’s rights. london: the british academy, 2024. https://www.jstor.org/stable/j.j.20829400.7.
