In making the perfect baby, we could end up with imperfect leaders

Sightgeist by Jon Kudelka, October 28, 2017.

The beach on a sunny morning. A ­family sits on a bench beside a toddle­r in a pram. Mum and dad sip coffee while the toddler swipes at a screen, a pacifier forgotten in her mouth and a gauzy cloth shading her from the morning sun. It’s peaceful and these parents look as if they need a break.

But peace has a price. And this morning that price is the opportunity for a child to watch dogs pass by, chase seagulls, feel the grit of sand ­beneath her bare toes, paddle in winter-cooled water, climb rocks pancaked into the sand and make a noise — squeals, shouts, questions … anything to shift that pacifier.

Most people prefer not to hear from children, especially in cafes, supermarkets, planes, trains and, well, anywhere really. Put a plug in it, I hear, I think, I’d like to say. But this morning it seems ominous. My media feeds are giving a different take on the cost of quiet.

A study in the US just asked mothers what traits they wanted from their babies. More than half rated extroversion and agreeableness as the most desirable traits and less than 10 per cent rated intelligence and conscientiousness. Sure, sure, we all want our kids to be healthy and happy but, after that, do we really want them to be cheerleaders and a bit dumb?

The study was raised in the context of the work being done on genetic engineering to ­select character traits. The science is developing rapidly, especially in China, so it’s possible a tick-a-box person could be included in a pregnancy kit before we’ve all had a chance to think whether we want it. And, if we do, what we want in tomorrow’s kids.

Another feed is about a book, iGen. Full title: iGen: Why Today’s Super-Connected Kids are Growing up Less Rebellious, More Tolerant, Less Happy and Completely Unprepared for Adulthood (phew). The book has sold well and, even though reviews have been tepid, the research is solid and the subtitle says it all. We have a generation of iKids.

Another study, from the journal Child Development, finds teenagers aren’t doing the stuff they’ve always done — basically terrify parents. They aren’t getting driving licences, they aren’t getting paid jobs and they aren’t sneaking ­alcohol or having as much sex. Phew, eh?

Sure, this is a generation reared by technology, kept indoors by technology, given their world views by technology, made fat by technology, kept safe by technology, fed a fantasy life by technology and babysat by technology. But someone has the Off switch and they’re not using it. Blame the parents? Maybe not. Technology has simply arrived at a time when parent­s are working, stressed, scared of the future­, feeling the pressure of competition for their preschooler’s performance and being judged by everyone. The screens are an escape hatch from ill-timed tantrums and judgmental eyes that say put a plug in it.

We are all raising these kids. We all want them to be quiet. We want to keep them safe with rubber-matted playing spaces and properly fitted pram harnesses. We fret about leering eyes when children play naked. We scrub our living spaces of dirt, screen foods for allergens, study labels for chemicals and are so freaked out about small parts in toys that we publish a Worst Toys list every Christmas.

We’re doing so well at managing kids’ behaviour that we won’t need to tinker with the genes of embryos to make them the ideals of agree­ableness. We’re there. No child will live with a sad face, sand on their feet, oyster cuts on their toes, wet clothes from the sea or grazed hands from chasing seagulls. Safe but not so sound.

When genetic tinkering for future generations does arrive, you can bet which boxes parents will tick for personality traits. And you can bet that people like me won’t be born. Mouthy critics won’t make it past the gene test. And you may not miss us but we’ll all miss the fearless leaders, crazy innovators, unsocial creators, tireless campaigners and quiet achievers who won’t make the cut either. We may be getting the sort of children we like to live with at the ­expense of the sort of people we like to lead us.