Anders, Father?

Recently, I have been involved in conversations about children. And not Children in some Dickensian abstract either, nor children as puppies are discussed, but actually engendering them. Fathering them, rearing them, imparting experiences and moral firmaments - or laxities - upon their little heads, or, as Homer Simpson would have it, "teach(ing) them to hate the things you hate". Children as an unopposable necessity of life.

 People seem struck by suprise when I expound my own aspirations of parenthood in the absolute negative. As incisively as I can peer into my own future, I see no mini Anders', or at least none biologically begotten by me. Some are disillusioned by it. Without trying too hard I can envision circumstances in which being averse to having children would be met with dismay. After all, if everybody were of this barren opinion...

Others still - and they are the majority - find it laughably immature. When you get older, they say, Father Time intervenes. Your body clock ticks faster. Cue a gaggle of other temporal analogies jocularly bowing to death. Granted,  it is perhaps too petulant a position as to bear any resemblance to how I might feel in five or ten years. Many young people take it as their immediate aim to shirk the sorts of things that could impede their magnficent adventures or lofty career goals. Children, for younger adults, are the ultimate shackler of a good time. I am willing to concede that point, despite the fact that biology is always quick to remind us of how ready we are to, and how easily we could, conceive another human, far easier indeed than one might conceive of a good character in fiction.

But the fact remains that I must take my thoughts as I find them, sensations which are affecting me now and not one day soon. And funnily enough, mining those very thoughts after the aformentioned conversations, I am more surprised than anyone at my current opinion.

The reason for my surprise, which might seem clear-cut to the point of banality, consists of another element besides biological imperative, although the two are inextricably linked. And where one element is concerned purely with hardwiring, with how and for what we are made, you might say, the other element comes in at a much more philosophical level. This second element furnishes the children conversation with the questions, What is the Good Life? What is Happiness? What is it that we do in our lives which makes us Happiest?

Here is a syllogism that, I think, captures the essence of people's dumfoundedness upon hearing that I don't want kids.

1. Having children is the most universally attainable and best accomplishment open to Man
2. Anders doesn't want to have children
3. Anders doesn't want to partake of the most universally attainable and best accomplishment to Man
Unspoken conclusion: Anders doesn't want to be Happy.

People have goals. Most people's highest goals will be left unattained. Any goals which are attained ineluctably lead to the setting of new ones, thus rendering even the most well-credentialled person, to some degree or another, unfulfilled. The feelings of unfulfilment, of underachievement, of lament at misspent time or misused opportunities, are all but iron certainties for the vast, vast percentage of human beings. I exclude from these musings the very young and very old, for they are either unaware of or for all intents and purposes finished with the setting of goals. And by goals I mean great goals as opposed to choosing what to eat for lunch or what game to play after school. I understand that great goal is very misty indeed and its meaning will change from person to person. No matter. Whoever you are, life can be defined as a series of great goals made a hash of, or lost to Father Time, or grabbed like a slippery fish only to glimpse a far bigger one swimming just upstream.

I only bother mentioning all this doom and gloom - none of which you haven't heard before, particularly through a medium of art - as a means of juxtaposing it with another goal, namely bearing children and raising a family. Sorry if it made you sad, but for argument's sake it had to be done. Let's make a brief list of how the goal of parenthood differs from every other great goal I can think of.
-It is inalienably a shared goal (at least at conception).
-It is, with some exceptions of course, a universally attainable goal, and thanks to advancements in fertility science, becomes more of one every year.
-It is a goal that is unsurpassable. No hierarchical 'bigger fish' exists after bearing children, only incidentals such as the size and dynamic of the family
-It is a forever ongoing goal, rather than a neverending sequence of ephemeral ones. The betterment of one's children and of oneself through those children is halted only in extreme circumstances or death. Consider those online computer games that can never be finished but which still command the unwavering attention of millions because 'tasks' are always at hand.
-Lastly (though I'm sure there are many others) it is the only great goal that corresponds precisely to one of the accepted 'biological imperatives' of the human race. Thus parenthood traverses the boundaries between the animal and the sublime. Food, water, shelter: these all become attendant necessities, centered around the family, and are therefore sublimated too as a result. There is a big difference between the relief of winning bread and a roof for oneself and the sense of satifsaction, of accomplishment, of Happiness, that attends to securing provisions for one's family.

I say all this, but also say that I don't want children. For that explanation, I'll get back to you.