The Price of Privilege (which is paid by our children)

It’s not often that I read a book and question it, but still want to recommend it widely, and indeed to re-read it immediately. Dr. Madeline Levine’s The Price of Privilege is one such book. Though based largely on her clinical experience in California – and hence arguably very culturally specific – the anecdotes resonate with my experience as a teacher, principal and, I have to admit, as a parent in Singapore, Kenya, UK, USA and Switzerland. If you are an affluent parent, buy it, read it, and discuss it with children, partners and grandparents. This could be too important to miss.

Levine addresses the at-first-sight-baffling statistic that America’s newly-identified at-risk group is preteens and teens from affluent, well-educated families. In spite of their economic and social advantages, they experience among the highest rates of depressions, substance abuse, anxiety disorders, somatic complaints and unhappiness of any group of children in the country. In many cases their futures are far from clear, despite all the advantages that money can buy . Having grown up as a teacher and citizen to be thinking about the under-privileged and poor, I initially found this astonishing; but then I thought about my own experience in privileged schools that now run teams of counsellors which struggle to meet demand – not to help with violence or gang issues (as one reads in the news), but to deal with disabling anxiety and severe depression in students.

The phenomenon is relatively little researched. With high levels of parental involvement and high expectations, it is perhaps not unreasonable to think that ‘students like that don’t have problems’, as I was told by one headteacher a long time ago. But whatever our intuitions may tell us, we have to make sense of the stories and statistics that Levin highlights so powerfully, recognise the facts about children from affluent families in USA, and wonder what lessons we can learn in our own contexts.

It’s a rich book that defies easy summary but Levine’s central argument is a familiar one; that a culture of materialism arises when we (and she herself, as she makes abundantly clear) as parents are under-involved in the right things and over-involved in the wrong things. She is rightly careful not to give definitive lists of right and wrong, but what emerges are issues about high expectations spilling over into impossible pressure, and modern-lifestyles and plenty of resources allowing us to buy easy short-term solutions for our children when perhaps they would be better earned by our children. She also mentions the potentially damaging roles of retail therapy and domestic help.

I found her argument on the effect of materialism compelling. She is correct that materialism is not the same thing as having money; rather, it is a value system that emphasises wealth, status, image and material consumption – and of course is not confined to the affluent.  High levels of materialism predict a lack of happiness and satisfaction (here is some interesting research) and it seems that materialistic kids have lower grades and higher rates of both depression and substance abuse than non-materialistic kids . This has to be right -and it’s why good schools place such emphasis on service to others, emphasise community over individualism and stress intrinsic rather than extrinsic motivation. It’s also why seeking. comfort over all else, and meeting every individual preference is not a healthy thing to do for children.

Levine is wise not to fall into easy answers. She notes that connecting with our children is key; but as a mother of three acknowledges that there’s no formula for connection. Her stories – of school grades and of drunken parties – nevertheless illuminate the issue well. She also addresses a critical issue of the solidity (or otherwise) or the home. Using analyst Selma Greiberg’s haunting lyrical phrase ‘ghosts in the nursery’, she asks that we as parents identify the leftover, unresolved parts of our own childhood that still influence how we parent in the present. Leaving the analyst-speak aside, there is deep wisdom here. We all need to know what’s under the surface of our own psychological icebergs before we can be the people our children need us to be.

The argument is is not equally convincing across the board.  I hesitated over her chapter on mothers and work (which some may find incendiary), and I wonder if there’s a broader social malaise here, one that may be technology related (which might explain why the tech-rich affluent suffer more). Do we see life Do we expect life to be perfect and that our problems are solvable by the right upgrade? Do we see any irritation or discomfort as an outrage against us personally? Does this foster the materialism and perfectionism she decries? Others have certainly said so (see refs below).  I am, however, convinced that this book has deepened my own thinking about parenting. Whether you agree or not; this is a book that all parents – especially affluent ones – should read.