Editorial

When a journal is read avidly across the world (and I know from personal experience that this one is read in North America and Australasia as well as across the Nordics and the EU) one can state, somewhat smugly, that it appears to have ‘come of age’. Add the fact that it is a carefully refereed journal, that it covers many really pertinent theory‐into‐practice discussions and that it is actually read by many of those at the workplace, and one comes to the view that the EECERJ fills a very useful place in the current scheme of things. And what is the scheme of things? This editorial is devoted to a brief summary of the current position in early childhood policy, provision and context, as I perceive it. To that end I shall only mention the excellent current papers in passing. Beware, therefore; this is no précis of the contents! Those can be found in the abstracts.

After 50 years in education and care, and professional experience in 21 countries, you might expect me to have accumulated some views, prejudices and opinions. After working in schools as a teacher, in teacher education as an academic and ‘trainer’ and lately as a policy adviser in the public service, I would like to list a few matters which concern me. These are not tidy, uni‐dimensional or particularly neatly categorised. They range across several disciplines and areas of study. I do not ask that you agree with them: they are simply observations based on personal experience. They are aspects that concern me and I think them pertinent.

Why is early childhood so important? Because, as the ancients knew and as modern brain research and the social sciences demonstrate, it is very clear that our early learning is critical for our social, cognitive and emotional behaviour, and perhaps largely predictive of it, for the rest of our lives. More than that, because, as many have intimated, the quality of our child‐rearing reflects the quality of our culture as a whole: it is illustrative of our collective values, our ambitions for our human development. Early education and care don’t just ‘get you somewhere’ richer or safer, they are about the whole destination of future civilisation.

There is no single causal feature that fuels overall policy and provision. Rather, it is a coalescing of forces and changes that bear upon our lives and those of our children. Principal of these are the following. There is no hierarchy and they are not discrete:

• Developments in contraception;

• A substantial decline in the birth rate in most of the countries within the Organization for Economic Co‐operation and Development (OECD) (since the early 1960s);

• The greater emancipation of women;

• An increasing number of women in the work‐force;

• Later first parturition;

• High divorce rates;

• Recent research on early brain development;

• The persistent and debilitating effects of poverty and the apparent roots of crime;

• Conflicting value systems in a more fluid, post‐modern, mobile world;

• The increasingly powerful influence of technology and the media;

• Global interconnection of economies;

• The democratic rights of children.

Additionally, though not universally, many countries are seeing early childhood education and care (ECEC) as an essential precursor to primary or grade school. As that latter experience becomes ever earlier, a formal curriculum for ‘pre‐school’ (‘schoolification’ as the Swedes have called it) becomes ever more likely. All the above listed factors are driving policy‐makers to an unparalleled focus on the early years of life, a concern for ‘what goes in it’ and an increasing commitment of very substantial sums of public money, together with a real concern for high quality institutional provision and pertinent outcomes. ECEC is effectively at the same stage as elementary education for all was in the 19th century: as big a change of public attitude is required and certainly large amounts of investment if one is to achieve universality and appropriate ease of access.

Many countries, therefore, are examining the quality of their early childhood provision and connecting it more clearly with perceived variations in later school achievement and in overall social and human capital. These last are notoriously difficult to define, but the amount, style and ages of the provision of early childhood education and care vary from country to country and it is difficult to disaggregate care and early dispositional learning (values and attitudes) from success in formal education and from notions of social capital, or, indeed, of ultimate ‘wellbeing’ (a term in high currency with politicians, but notoriously difficult to define). Moreover, the traditional divide between kindergarten/pre‐school teacher and that of the long‐day ‘carer’ has long since broken down. Parents themselves rarely see the difference and the slipperiness of the terminology means that we are unwise to refer to pre‐school, kindergarten, long‐day care, nursery, play‐school, or what have you without clearly assigning cultural and local context as an explainer! Terms such as the above mean very little outside the specific system in which they are embedded, since they encompass different ages and stages in different countries (and states and provinces). Differences in emphasis may also be affected by different traditions and different levels and styles of initial training and salary. Both UNESCO and OECD have long since used the term ‘Early Childhood Education and Care’ and politicians betray their age, lack of awareness or plain wilfulness when they think a single local and traditional term can any longer be sufficient. Admittedly, the current OECD/UNESCO term is a ‘catch‐all’, a portmanteau term that conveniently covers the mix of provision and practice that exists from birth through to early primary education at about eight years; and I have yet to see a really convincing argument for that upper end at eight years, unless one harks back to the arguments of Freudian theory concerning latency, or perhaps takes a solidly Piagetian view of concrete operations! Nevertheless, it would be wrong to cavil, since that ‘loose upper end’ permits dialogue and continuity between approaches to the very young and those in middle childhood; both a lever and an opportunity.

In general, ECEC, though not yet compulsory, has been concomitant with age level changes in the start of primary schooling. Additionally, many countries have developed what might be termed ‘light touch’ curricula; that is, programmes for the very young that are thought to facilitate early literacy and appropriate social and intellectual skills and that can usefully ‘map on to’ the later formal curriculum of primary school, as are the apparent intentions in ‘no child left behind’ (USA). Along with this is a preoccupation with testing, accountability and the establishment of ‘learning frameworks, or listed ‘outcomes’. The politicians’ desperation to measure outcomes usually over‐rides the well‐documented disadvantages that show how testing narrows programmes and very often merely tests what the tests are about. The testing argument has never been a particularly sound one (except, perhaps, for those companies that profit from the construction of tests), but nor is it for any too‐precise a curriculum framework either. The Finns survive well with a much more flexible system and an acknowledged superiority later, but few politicians seem to have heeded that good news. Broadly speaking I would aver that ECEC professionals tend to dislike testing children, whereas policy makers feel their lives depend on it (which may explain why, as evidence grows in UK as to the monumental failures of the various testing regimes, Australians are about to cycle into them blithely).

Childhood is, of course, a social construct, and what societies do with (or impress upon) their children and how they describe the versions of desirable and appropriate attributes, has varied from century to century and culture to culture. However, with the speed and pervasiveness of the media, the globalisation of economies (and of economic failure), and the power of commercial exploitation come increasing features remarkably akin to homogeneity. Whether we like it or not, there is surprising commonality of experience, if not of focus. For instance, Europe is no island and many of the EU nations and others further afield experience the hegemony of similar media experiences. Increasingly our children are socialised by powerful agencies largely (it seems) beyond our control; so much so that embattled parents wonder whether You Tube or Facebook have more power in the process of upbringing than do the parents themselves. I have noticed small children as far afield as Finland and New Zealand use expressions from The Simpsons!

Certain major themes constantly emerge from any review of the research literature on childhood. This edition is no exception. Language in its various forms is central therein: from discussions of perceptions of body image by young Korean girls to the purposes of education as expressed through poetry; from subject‐oriented knowledge in Norwegian kindergartens (after the 2006 Act) to dominant and submissive language in Greece (the impact of gender). Social adjustment is another key issue both consistently discussed over the years and present in this edition. We know that learning is at ‘flood‐tide’ during these years; that it is particularly crucial during the first three or four years after birth, affecting the very architecture of the brain and our dispositions to think and act. We also know that attachment and consistency of warm, loving behaviour are the best bulwarks against dysfunctionality in adulthood. We can note especially that poverty is an obscenity and has a long‐lasting and cripplingly debilitating effect, often eroding relationships, responsibility and creativity and any future chance of economic wellbeing. We can therefore look askance at the global recession (2009) and wonder whether the current aspirations to remove large numbers of children from poverty will actually be fulfilled. Strict adherence to market forces does not seem to well serve those who are vulnerable, and mercifully, many countries do not ‘commodify’ ECEC as a saleable item only available to the well‐off. Some do, however, and, as yet, few have reached the Nordic high point of a detailed ECEC service with community awareness, sensitive provision and easy affordability.

Subsidiary but powerful other recurring themes concern the relevant and iconic nature of play and games in early learning and the importance of appropriately matched stimulation coupled with an awareness of gender and different rates of development. Aspects of these appear in this edition, which is no surprise to those who believe that all learning is mediated by emotion.

Common to most countries this last two decades (and perhaps longer) has been a major preoccupation with child protection and safety. Of course we should be deeply concerned – and especially so when noting that in several countries there have been horrifying high profile cases of child abuse, child neglect and even child murder. Such cases have caused ripples of anxiety, guilt, loathing and fear to run throughout communities and through the different systems of oversight involved. In many cases there has been legislation to tighten scrutiny of those in professions associated with childhood. Such anxiety and the seeking out of more efficient ways to prevent child abuse are legitimate, necessary and our duty. One cannot but note, however, that, in many cases abuse starts in the family, or among those closely related, and that those caught up in screening and legislation (e.g., teachers, carers and social workers, etc.) are statistically the least likely to hurt small children. It is families that are so often the cause of harm. I doubt whether, even under the strictest of laws and the most watchful of communities, it is possible to prevent a family from harming their child if they so intend to do. Perhaps no amount of bureaucracy, rules and legislation can always ensure that the pathological and the abusive are appropriately constrained before the event. Any solutions lie deep and it may be that poor attachment, prior neglect and generationally cyclic behaviour are the real causes.

Different countries approach the issues very differently. In the UK, we might do well to observe work in Denmark and Norway. There is much to learn from comparative policy studies in all aspects of ECEC. Child protection is no exception, but in this context we should recall that low‐level risk may be a necessary part of early human endeavour needing a kindly but robust eye. Children do climb trees, fall in playgrounds and hurt themselves occasionally. To cut out all risk can be a trivialising and inappropriate part of the justifiable and collective reaction to the more serious issues. Because some are afraid of litigation we may come to deny the adventure of childhood that so many little ones still seek and that still has a part to play in the development of the species.

The journal has come of age. It is greatly stimulating to our professional work and has grown in stature and in spread over a mere two decades. Its creators planned well. Since I have been self‐indulgent throughout, let me end therefore with a brief litany of what I think would be best for children born into the twenty‐first century:

• To be born into a friendly, sensitive environment that is able to ‘bathe’ the child in good, healthy practice: good food, language, love and a sense of belonging;

• To be born into a safe place, where there is no cruelty and no fear, other than the low‐level risks of trying and exploring;

• To be born into a world rich in interesting sensations, of people, of children, of science, aesthetics and music and of friends and companions;

• To be born into a world where the possibilities are exciting, endless and challenging;

• To be born into a world where moral principles are commonly seen as important features of human life.

Perhaps if we were able to ensure this, we, too, as a culture, would have ‘come of age’.