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Low birthrates, societal aging, and the potential collapse of the social security system – these are worries that have dominated public debates for years. Europe’s “demographic deficit” will likely cause the average age in the EU to jump from 39 in 2004 to 49 in 2050. Dieter Thomä’s book suggests that plummeting birthrates are also symptomatic of a more fundamental social phenomenon: the dad crisis. Thomä detects a general insecurity regarding the role fathers should play both within their families and outside of the home. For Thomä that accounts for why ever fewer men are opting for a life with wife and kids. Yet according to the author, that is nothing new: the confusion surrounding fatherhood has been with us since the birth of modernity. In his book, Thomä traces the history of “fatherhood’s crisis” from the end of the 17th century to the present, citing contemporary examples from public life, literature, and the arts and augmenting them with his own experiences as a dad.
At the outset of his stroll through the history of “dead white European males”, Thomä asserts that modern societies can no longer take for granted the smooth transition from one generation to the next. He identifies two forms of crisis. Men must first ask themselvesif they want to become a father. And if they do, they need to determine how a father is supposed to act. Between the two extremes of the omnipotent über-dad and the anti-authoritarian buddy lies an entire array of role models to choose from. It’s no wonder modern fathers are at a loss. With his book, Thomä hopes to put an end to their confusion.
Thomä differentiates between three manifestations of the patriarch. The supreme paternal authority is God the Father. He is represented on earth by the monarch who acts as both a political figure of authority and as a father. At the other end of the spectrum is the head of the family. In the 18th century Locke and Kant begin knocking the monarch from his throne, at least theoretically. Political fatherhood is now equivalent with despotism. Once the king’s head rolls during the French Revolution, his seat at the head of the state goes up for grabs. As new ways of organizing the state are sought, fraternité comes to take the place once held by the father. On a political level this represents the first step towards democracy. Yet the concept of brotherhood, which renounces fatherhood, carries risks of its own. It hinders the transition from one generation to the next. Such a breach in tradition can easily become disorienting: “By doing away with traditional values, we lose the “compass” that guides us and lose sight of the “harbor” we were sailing towards.” The political “abolition of the father” in revolutionary France also had consequences for the head of the household. In 1792 a law was temporarily in effect that allowed citizens to choose their own names, thus liberating them from their patronym.
In 19th century Europe, the economic upheavals caused by industrialization radically change the family structure. In both small bourgeois families and working-class households, the father becomes marginalized from family life by new job demands. He must now prove himself outside of the home. And yet he is the one who continues to have the say in the family and make the rules in spite of being absent. His role is marked by a paradoxical relationship of presence and absence. The family becomes a refuge of security, offering its members protection, and yet such close confines can also become so oppressive that in many cases escape is the only option. The family as either an empty or a stifling constellation, and the father as its domineering figure. The many examples Thomä cites from 19th century literature vividly underscore this tension. In light of these extremes it is not surprising that at the beginning of the 20th century an ever increasing number of young Germans turned to youth movements in search of well-being. Aside from the family, adolescent peer groups still represent a source of guiding principles today.
The grand ideologies of the 20th century also relieve mothers and fathers of their parental duties, which now become a matter of the state. Though it is frequently alleged that Nazi Germany projected a positive image of the family, Thomä objects, claiming that it actually tore the family apart. While the wife was responsible solely for the household and bearing children, the husband was forced to work outside of the family as a laborer and soldier. And since these two domains never overlapped, there was no space for the family. Instead, children were raised in Nazi child and youth organizations according to the aims of the state. In communist countries, on the other hand, collectives replaced parenting.
Thomä lucidly presents the various attempts made to find a substitute for fatherhood: brotherhood, individualism, and state-run childcare are just a few of them. The 60s movement also did its best to eliminate what it believed was an authoritarian concept of parenthood. Parents were no longer to set any limits for their children so that they could develop more naturally. For Thomä, however, none of these experiments provide a true alternative to fatherhood; rather, it is only by means of fatherhood that one generation can successfully pick up where the other leaves off.
So what are these fathers supposed to be like? At present, Thomä sees “an abundance of highly divergent solutions,” a predicament in which “anything goes, but nothing works.” It turns out that capitalism hasn’t proven to be overly family-friendly, either. Less and less men are choosing to become fathers. The desire to have children often comes down to a cost-benefit analysis: Will it be “worth it” to bear the costs of a child? The “economic individualist” tries to weigh emotional gain against financial loss. Obviously, such an equation is spurious. For Thomä, an additional hurdle to becoming a father is the concept of self-fulfillment, enticing men to put their true lives on hold indefinitely. Thomä castigates this refusal to grow up and finally be “ready”, regarding it as a “culture of indecision”.
The author pens a passionate defense of fathers and families: “There are already people who help us during our birth, what we need are people who help us during our life. And if fathers won’t be these people, then they’re committing a crime against our future.” As such a “life helper”, the “new father” must convey practical and emotional knowledge to his children and thereby prepare them for life. Taking care not crush them under the weight of his authority, he should nonetheless “feel authorized to acquaint them with his own views on life,” – while also giving them a sense that even his convictions are open to debate.
It is striking how this assured and largely convincing defense of fathers is not programmatic. Many of Dieter Thomä’s convictions are based on his own experiences as both a father and a son. This makes “Daddy’s” a very personal book that readers will be able to identify with. Thomä is also a brilliant essayist and superb storyteller, as witnessed not only by the numerous anecdotes he provides from his own life, but also by the many episodes from art and literature that he relates with verve. It is astounding how aptly they support his thesis. It would have been interesting to learn how Thomä distinguishes the terms fatherhood and motherhood, yet in spite of this quibble, the book is a worthwhile read: enlightening, entertaining, and significant for one’s own life and for society at large.
Eva Kaufmann
January 2009
[Translated by Franklin Bolsillo Mares]
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