There were many jobs that helped me pay my way through university. Selling leather jackets on Camden market, a very bad wedding DJ and a bartender in more places than I can remember. One of my favorites was driving a private-hire cab in North London. It had downsides: Nauseous drunks, exhibitionist backseat love-makers and menacing football hooligans who wanted to know which team I supported. But in general, it was a decent gig.

It was rare then for someone from state care to go to university. A fragile milestone on a long journey from one world to another. At times it felt like a no mans land. In my rear view mirror there was a world that seemed dysfunctional and full of violence, poverty and pain. Just across the horizon I imagined somewhere bathed in prosperity, purpose and safety. A university degree would be my rite of passage.

Driving a cab at Christmas, there was one thing worse than the small number of horrible customers. It was the much larger number of nice ones. They would jump into the back of the cab, armed with gifts, en-route to relatives or for Christmas drinks. After a few sherries they would sing Christmas songs and exchange shared memories of Christmas past.

Their joy illuminated what I lacked. I was so focussed on getting through that stage of life, I had not yet developed an adequate vocabulary to describe my life to myself. I now realize that no mans land was an unfathomably lonely place. I was 22, but had already had 25 addresses. It felt like there was no single thread tying it all together. The early roots of friendships and relationships that would endure for a lifetime were beginning to take shape. I was lucky enough to be one of the few care leavers who now always had a Christmas dinner invitation. The awkwardness of being an outsider at Christmas and a festive novice was brilliantly captured in the recent film ‘Alex Wheedle/ Small Axe’ by Steve McQueen. I am still a bit of a Christmas novice, but maybe a slightly improved one!

I guess my heart told me the world was divided into two. Those who someone cared about and those who nobody cared about at all. Deep inside I felt I was one of the second group and there because I was unworthy. What I didn’t know was that this a completely normal feeling for someone from my background.

The whole field of attachment psychology started in the 1940s when John Bowlby interviewed young offenders in London. He noted that many self- blamed for being abandoned by their parents and felt similarly unworthy. This research led to decades of work which helped the world to understand the way that childhood experience shapes adult outcomes. Inconsistent or absent affection in childhood may affect up to 40% of any given population. The situation of young people from care is just the most severe and manifest part of a much more widespread social problem that otherwise had remained taboo.

Our modern, idyllic image of Christmas comprises jolly people singing and feasting around a warm family hearth while snow falls outside. We owe this partially to Charles Dickens whose Christmas Carol did much to shape the identity and aesthetic of Christmas. His formative childhood years coincided with a rare decade of snowy London winters and a spell of abandonment and child labour at the age of 12 , as his parents languished in a debtors prison. Christmas Carol is ultimately a joyous tale when Scrooge overcomes emotional poverty and trauma and finds his place at a Christmas hearth. Many popular Christmas songs represent an aesthetic of the return to this hearth.

In the UK there is now a movement to de-Grinch Christmas for Care Leavers. An army of volunteers make sure that careleavers across the country have a Christmas dinner. Sophia Alexander Hall sensitively created a list of care-leaver Christmas films that don’t go overboard on the whole family thing. Less sensitive was Paperchase’s ‘comedy’ greeting card featuring a Mommy rabbit demanding a refund from the orphanage for a young foster rabbit who spilt milk. Sophia and Lemn Sissay led an online protest and the card was withdrawn.

Though my young feelings of being unworthy were normal, they were also false. As the years went by, I also understood that the world is not divided between the cared for and uncared for . The land across the horizon of university degrees, suburbs and families is also broken. There is addiction, violence and emotional poverty there too. Care leavers are worthy. I saw that people will wait for us, come across town to see us on a bus or keep us in their thoughts or prayers. Through the beauty of human acknowledgement and connection we can recover and build our own hearth.

Recently a UNICEF colleague (namecheck Aleksandra) visited a juvenile detention facility, as Bowlby had done over 75 years earlier. She commented that most of the problems the young people found themselves in, happened because they had no-one to turn to. For them, any small challenge could quickly morph into something much greater. The cost of running the juvenile facility and the the crimes committed are way higher than the costs of prevention.

If the idea of a return to a safe and warm hearth is so central to our main annual holiday and therefore to our national culture, should it not also be central to our social policy? Could we guarantee a safe place of return for every child? A place of love, safety and belonging. Of shared memories and a soothing sense that one matters as an individual. If this sounds ambitious, just remember that in Dicken’s time the idea that we could do anything about childhood disease, hunger and illiteracy was considered fanciful.

The solutions are known. The evidence shows we can reduce neglect and abandonment through parenting support and social protection. We can also invest in resilient communities and schools We could realistically arrive at a point where it is simply no longer culturally acceptable or imaginable that a child would live or grow in such isolation. Even for pre-epiphany Scrooge types, the return on investment is compelling and cannot be dismissed as humbug.

It was once said that ‘safety, is not just the absence of violence, it is the presence of relationships’. This Christmas lets reimagine a world beyond the pandemic where every child has a safe place to return.

This Blog is part two in the ‘Because I Grew Up in An Orphanage’ Triology. Part one is here

If you put your mask on and go for a socially distanced trawl through New York City’s bookshops, you will note the most in-demand book of the moment hails from Glasgow. Shuggie Bain by Glaswegian New Yorker Stuart Douglas just won the Booker Prize. Its’about a 1980s childhood derailed by poverty, exclusion and adversity, and recovery through love and resilience.

‘ Glasgow was losing its purpose’ pondered Shuggie’s father while surveying the working class communities fractured by pit and shipyard closures.

Glasgow has certainly found new purpose in its world-inspiring efforts to reduce violence and adverse childhood experiences (ACEs). The eminent public health thinker Sir Michael Marmot lauded Glasgow’s community-based violence reduction work for halving gang violence in the city. Sir Micheal described their approach as an example of ‘building resilient communities’. Martin Luther King used to describe community based work on violence and exclusion as striving for a ‘beloved community’. They are one and the same. Love is resilience.

It was a pleasure to join Sir Michael last week in an online public discussion on poverty and adverse childhood experiences (ACEs), hosted by the incredible Ace-Aware Scotland.

This pandemic has shone the light on poverty everywhere. Austerity and prior stagnation on child health coupled with growing inequality had made us more vulnerable to the shocks of Covid19. Globally the number of children in poverty is estimated to have already risen by 15% as a result of the pandemic. We know child poverty is a disaster for children and their families, but it is also bad for society. Tackling child poverty increases wealth and growth for everyone. When we don’t, the scars last a lifetime and can be passed from one generation to another.

I see three catastrophic burdens in childhood that can drive lifelong inequality: Income Poverty through a lack of the basic means to survive, thrive and reach one’s potential. Discrimination or Exclusion based on race, gender or disability for example. Emotional Poverty ( also known as ACEs ) the absence of the basic nurturing and protective parental relationships due to violence, neglect or dysfunctional parenting .

The three burdens often converge and exacerbate each other. But not always. Most middle class respondents to the first ever ACE survey in 1998 had experienced one ACE and 12. 5 % had four or more. We all know people raised in wealthy and loving families who suffer devastating social exclusion because of disability, race or gender. We also meet people from so-called ‘privileged elites’ whose lives have been ruined by devastating emotional neglect or sexual violence in childhood. All need our compassion and our policy advocacy must focus on protecting all children in all circumstances always.

Shuggie Bain was afflicted by income and emotional poverty as well as exclusion because of homophobia. In those days only income poverty had a widely recognized and understood public and policy narrative . Homophobia was endemic and entrenched, as immortalized in the anthem’s of Glasgow’s own Bronski Beat. In 1988 the Conservatives introduced legislation through section 28 of the Local Government Act against promotion of positive images of Lesbians and Gay Men. 23 years later the Scottish Conservatives had an openly Lesbian leader. Ruth Davidson was so talented she could even promote a positive image of the Conservative party…in Scotland! Along with other forms of exclusion, including on gender, race and disability, those 23 years saw a public narrative emerge with clear policy asks to address homophobia.

The narrative on poverty may have begun in the 18th and 19th century and on exclusion and discrimination in the 20th century. Some post-2016 soul searching has blamed the rise in populism on a post-industrial working class perception that the left had abandoned fighting poverty to fight exclusion. Thats another blog! But both struggles continue and perceived competition between them is bad for each other and for progress in general.

Our understanding of emotional poverty as a risk factor for lifelong inequality is a 21st century idea. It accompanies an explosion of new knowledge about how our brains develop, emotions work, decisions are made. It shows how healthy relationships are essential for wellbeing. This is powered through new evidence at the intersection of neuroscience, biology, psychology and sociology. It is a crucial part of the jigsaw puzzle with attachment theory, toxic stress and resilience that powers a much better understanding of child development.

This idea is so new, we don’t even have an agreed title yet. For most of us Adverse Childhood Experiences tell a story at a population level, as data sets on prevalence of ACEs and life outcomes. There have been around 30 ACE surveys in different parts of the world and across most US states. They all demonstrate remarkably similar results, though they are not yet nationally representative in the way data on childhood disease is, for example.

The ACEs methodology is often used by WHO, UNICEF, CDC and other major public health bodies. We use it with caution and humility in the knowledge that it is an emerging field of research. But there is now enough knowledge to act and call on governments to invest in the following strength-based population-wide interventions: 1)universal support for early parenting through home visits 2) reducing stress on the caregiver 3) resilient communities, including policing and schools that promote connection and belonging 4) breaking taboos and building a public narrative. These are all accelerators that can drive forward progress on multiple public health and social fields.

In the future we may have internationally comparable data sets for all countries. We can then measure progress in reducing ACEs and poor life outcomes against investments in strength-based policies on parenting and resilience. I have seen internationally comparable data leveraged for policy advocacy to reduce child mortality, disability exclusion and deinstitutionalization and to improve education outcomes. ACEs data used internationally at the population level could be as transformative as when expansion of immunisation, safe water access and improved nutrition dramatically reduced child mortality during the child survival revolution of the 1970s and 1980s.

While we must work to craft a clear narrative, we can also think about the type of conversation we want to have. Here are some initial thoughts:

1. Poverty and exclusion are system failures. We have a right to be angry and loud about these injustices. Transmission of emotional poverty or ACEs is different. It is when things go wrong in the home and relationships-often inter-generationally and unintentionally. It becomes a system failure when we don’t address it. We need a calm thoughtful conversation that doesn’t blame or create competing victimhoods.
2. We need to look out at any population and recognize that anyone can be in pain, often even without being aware of it. That everyone is at risk. This topic can be a trigger or a source of healing, or both at the same time. There is no ‘us and them’ as everyone’s life is touched in some way. If we have not had ACEs ourselves, our partners, neighbors or co-workers have. We need compassion.
3. You cannot have a conversation about emotional poverty or ACEs that is judgemental. The subject feeds into how people feel about their parents, themselves and their children. These are usually complex and deeply private feelings. The policy makers and parliamentarians who we want to legislate and invest in this sphere, are no different to anyone else in this respect.
4. Addressing ACEs does not detract from the struggle to end poverty and exclusion. Equally it doesn’t always need to take them into account. It is a different framework of analysis. It can also be used alongside child poverty and social exclusion research to advocate for a holistic advocacy agenda to child and human development. There is no competition between the three. Individuals and groups will be drawn to work on the one that is of most interest to them. We cannot talk about ACEs in an atmosphere of polarization or competition.

I write all of this with the humility of knowing it is a much less evolved sphere than say child survival or nutrition. Our knowledge is evolving. But from what I have seen thus far, we need to have a calm, compassionate, non-judgmental and inclusive policy narrative on emotional poverty and ACEs. Child psychologist Peter Fonagy highlighted that parents who become self-aware of the risks of transmitting inter-generational trauma are less likely to do so. With the right type of public narrative we can harness community wide self-awareness to bring an end to emotional poverty in the lives of children everywhere.

“He feels a dark star of pain in his throat and the last warmth of her touch on his fingers” 
― Kit de Waal, My Name is Leon

At 92 years of age, Stuart, was reluctantly bought by his son to see psychologist Daniel Siegel. Despite initial protests, he warmed to the therapy sessions. The more he talked, the more he saw his lifelong feelings of emptiness and emotional detachment. That realization motivated him to continue with the therapy and to become a better companion for his wife in their retirement . The therapy began to chip away at rigid walls that prevented intimacy and affection and made him numb.

Stuart’s wife saw how tuned-in to her feelings he became through the therapy. They were now happier than at any previous point in their 62 years of marriage. She told Professor Siegel that Stuart’s parents were the coldest and emotionally distant people she had ever met.

Stuart’s painful journey had indeed began at the start of life, not towards the end . Babies are programmed for connection, warmth and love. When it’s absent or disrupted because of emotional neglect or loss, it is scary. Their rapidly evolving young brain and body adapts to survive this trauma. But that adaption can become a lifelong maladaption. We cannot remember or recall our relationships as infants. But the earliest years define how we navigate the world and relate to others.

Neglect is often inter-generational and unintentional. We rarely think about how life was for our parents as children. If their parents were emotionally unavailable or unreliable in their affection, then it leaves an imprint. Children don’t come with a handbook and parenting is largely automatic and instinctive. What if our instincts are distorted by an early deficit of love?

9 year old Leon has a “dark star of pain” at losing his beloved brother and mother for the uncertainty of foster care. Between Leon’s 9 and Stuart’s 92, dark stars that are not soothed can be the source of much silent pain. Such stars are everywhere. Up to 40 % of adults struggle to connect or to thrive within relationships due to scars of childhood

I recently heard love defined as the promotion and protection of another’s internal emotional world. Love empowers with the soothing sense of being a “we”.  To truly love, we need to be emotionally present and in-tune with another. This can be intolerably painful and uncomfortable for someone who has not previously felt part of a “we”.

On one level we know all this. We identify it immediately in the detached James Bond or insecure Bridgette Jones. In the songs of Amy Winehouse. It has driven plot lines from Tolstoy, Dickens and Hugo to many 2020 Oscar nominee films. But it rarely drives us to demand a public conversation about how we may address it.

The right to Love  is not set out as a specific right in the 1989 UN Convention on the Rights of the Child although the preamble states: Recognizing that the child, for the full and harmonious development of his or her personality, should grow up in a family environment, in an atmosphere of happiness, love and understanding,”  The latest science on human development shows child protection and development depends on the presence of love. Is it time to have an internationally recognized right to love?

We await any sequel from Kit De Waal to see how Leon’s life pans out.. An authentic connection with a teacher or another caring adult can help a traumatised child recover. Leon’s foster carer Maureen soothed him and helped him to believe that in the end “things would be alright”. Crucially, she helped him understand he mattered as an individual. We live in a world where mental health services are scarce and stigmatized and only accessed by a fraction of those who need them. Soothing relationships are the best hope for recovery for most.

Stuart’s healing began when he became self-aware that mental maps from his childhood were not serving him well.  We can imagine how much richer his life may have been if this had occurred earlier. Or if the emotional neglect was prevented from the start. Research shows that mothers who become similarly self-aware are less likely to neglect their own children. This knowledge has informed parenting programmes designed to give attached and nurturing caregiving.

A right to love would call on governments to ensure every child has a loving family in which they are protected. It would call for parenting programs to be universally available and stressors removed from parents. It would demand that schools and communities prevent loneliness and isolation of children. That no adolescent reaches adulthood without being part of a “we”.   That everyone knows how to talk about about attachment, neglect, belonging and connection. That we talk about it without stigma or judgement.

Over recent decades we have seen unprecedented, game-changing results in public health. The world has harnessed the latest science to reduce child and maternal mortality and expand life expectancy. The next frontier of human rights in many countries has shifted from survival and basic protections, to helping us thrive and flourish. We need the public demand and political will to ensure, within this, everyone has the right to love .

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