Little people on (the) board

So, 11-year-old Mark Anthony Sammut and 14-year-old Annabelle Muscat have been elected "by their peers" to serve as members of the Children's Council (The Times, July 20). My commiserations. They have added one item to the list of unnecessary activities that threaten to spoil their childhood.

The issues discussed by children in these forums apparently include substance abuse, child-fostering legislation, and, to the obvious glee of the Children's Commissioner, the smoking regulations. I was shocked to read that "one child complained about the lack of distinction between smoking and non-smoking areas in entertainment establishments". Let me explain why, with reference to my own childhood.

I remember well the blissful summer mornings spent swimming at il-banjijiet in Valletta. I now realise that the water was probably much too polluted, access to the sea tortuous and our systems of waste disposal quite rotten. But guess what: We didn't care a toss.

Our world was far from ideal but it was a children's world, where all that mattered was whether or not the chocolate milkshake would make it to the shops. (And no, we were not a bunch of social retards - many of us are now professionals and/or living satisfactory lives in many ways.)

I also remember days spent reading about and chasing butterflies, planning expeditions to the Amazon, teaching budgies to talk and writing letters to British hobbyists asking about this or that species of beetle (then, as now, I was keen on nature). Or setting up clubs à la Famous Five and Secret Seven. Nothing came of these grand schemes but I certainly don't regret the time spent dreaming them up. It was a time for the imagination to be let loose, a time to be oblivious to the risks of passive smoking and welfare gaps, a time to enjoy childhood.

The first problem with initiating children into the gloomy world of councils and social engineering is, therefore, that this robs them of their carefree childhood. I suggest that the smoking regulations be debated by adults, by people that is, who carry the unfortunate burden of realising that the milkshake not making it to the shops could mean a shoddy distribution system, faulty work practices, or protectionism. But there are other, to my mind more insidious, issues.

At first glance, it looks wise to involve children in decisions that affect them. Children are far from stupid or simple and they often come up with novel ways of understanding the world. But, what happens is that by incorporating children into the constricted and formal structures of the state (by making them serve on councils, for example), one ends up stifling this very originality.

It was clear reading the children's comments that they were simply regurgitating a discourse foisted on them by the contemporary orthodoxies of western states.

I repeat: Not because they are stupid but because they realise that circumstances expect this of them. In plain language, they say the things that adults want to hear. In a way, just as earlier generations played at being priests (tal-artal), these children are playing at being the new (secular, but no less doctrinal and sanctimonious) priesthood. They may seem smart but they are actually being encouraged to stifle their individuality and replicate the orthodoxy. Nothing will convince me that the major concern of an 11-year-old is passive smoking - and if it is, we have a problem.

In the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam there is a portrait (the name of the artist escapes me) of a young girl draped in pearls and expensive textiles, wearing a thoughtful expression and betraying nothing of her childhood.

In the 17th century children were seen as miniature adults and often portrayed as such. Today, the picture strikes us as odd - but in fact Children's Councils often end up doing the same thing. They create what the Germans, who seem to have a word for everything, call altklug which, roughly translated, means "precocious automatons".

There are of course many other reasons why one should want to question the idea of inviting children to have a say in such complex fora. Surely, there is something strange about the fact that legally they are treated as not quite accountable (because of their still-developing faculties of judgment) while being asked to contribute to these very laws. (According to the Children's Commissioner, the new recruits are expected actively to participate in council meetings, the point of which is to formulate a children's law.)

There is a short story by Saki called The Lumber Room, in which a boy named Nicholas escapes the Edwardian severity of his guardians and sneaks into a room full of forbidden treasures - tapestries that trigger his imagination, pictures of exotic birds that transport him to faraway landscapes and such. My point is that children need the lumber room to develop creativity and initiative, essential qualities when it comes to debating the fostering laws later on in life.

Dr Falzon is an anthropologist and a university lecturer.