Jane English: Children Do Not ‘Owe’ their Parents Anything

  The Bellelli Family, by Edgar Degas (1858), via Wikimedia Commons

Note: this is an abridged preview of my upcoming book, The Philosophy Prescription: Lessons from Big Thinkers for Every Stage of Life, published by Penguin Random House. This article is adapted from Chapter 2, ‘Being Someone’s Child’. If you enjoy it, I’d be honored if you’d consider checking out the book!

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The first relationship each of us experience is that with our parents or primary caregivers. That we are someone’s child, and that we cannot pick who that someone is, are fundamental to structuring both our experience of the world and the trajectory of our lives.

But as growing children we’re likely not even conscious of being constrained in terms of our background values, interests, or belief systems; we are much more concerned with being constrained in terms of our day-to-day behavior.

Granted, many of these behavioral constraints are relatively uncontroversial. Don’t eat things off the ground. Don’t be nasty to other children. Don’t try to stick your fingers in the plug socket.

But how long should we obey our parents? Should we always respect their authority? Or, if they overly-constrain who we are as we grow up, are we justified in ‘overcoming’ them, as we might ‘overcome’ the other unchosen constraints of our lives?

The question of what we owe to our parents is of course a deeply personal one.

From the omnipotent gods of our early years, our parents inevitably metamorphosize into mere human beings, and a changed relationship springs forth from the wreckage.

We find ourselves becoming them, trying not to become them, obeying them, defying them, loving them, putting up with them.

Those very close to their parents won’t think twice about listening to or caring for them; others may feel a need to protect themselves from a difficult dynamic, yet feel guilty for imposing boundaries; still others may feel entirely justified for going ‘no contact’ with a parent they deem irredeemably toxic.

Do philosophers offer any general guidance for how we might navigate the personal complexities of parent-child relationships? Are there any universal rules or frameworks that shed light on this unique, intricate dynamic?

The ancient Stoic philosopher Seneca, for example, observes (in On the Shortness of Life, 15.3) that

[t]here is a common saying that it was not in our power to choose the parents we were allotted, and that they were given to us by chance; yet we can be born to whomever we wish.

In other words, though we can’t choose who our parents are, Seneca tells us, we can choose who our role models are.

This suggests that, if it turns out that our parents’ views do not chime with our own, or we come into unresolvable conflict, we can freely select another set of values by which to live.

Other philosophers, however, would vigorously contest this line of thinking…

Confucius: children should always listen to, respect, and serve their parents

The Confucian philosophy of ancient China is centered around xiao, commonly translated as filial piety. Here respecting, serving, and honoring one’s parents isn’t some conditional expression of individual rational agency; it’s one of our most fundamental and deeply felt obligations as human beings, and the cornerstone of what it means to live a good and full life.

Our parents do not ‘constrain’ us; they mold us into good people through love, support, and far-sightedness, enabling us to survive – even thrive – in the human community. Barring cases of extreme neglect or abuse, the vast majority of people owe their parents lifelong service, gratitude, and reverence.

“An earlier generation plants trees under whose shade later generations rest,” states one traditional Chinese proverb. “When you drink the water you must not forget those who dug the well for you,” implores another.

If we appreciate being alive, if our parents endured hardship and sacrifice to raise us, if we were generally cared for and looked after as children, then according to Confucians we ‘owe’ our parents a great deal.

Confucians invoke a number of arguments to justify filial piety. We won't cover them all here (for a deeper dive, ​see my book!​), but among the most important are these.

Respecting our parents teaches us how to suppress our selfish tendencies, acting as a training ground for morality elsewhere in our lives, and preparing us to live more harmoniously with the wider human community.

It also reflects life’s natural rhythms. Though Confucianism has long been criticized for its entrenchment of traditional forms of hierarchy, modern scholars suggest it need be nothing sinister. Hierarchy can also be thought of simply as a naturally practical pattern: those with competence and experience are best placed to lead those without.

This perfectly meshes with the parent-child dynamic. As we begin life we depend upon the abilities and knowledge of our parents and elders, and so we respect their position at the top of the hierarchy; but as times change and our parents age, as our resources for living in society evolve, we become their benefactors in turn, while continuing to honor their greater experience.

Living a good life means acknowledging and taking responsibility for the naturally shifting dynamic in our relationships, and “to serve my father as I would expect my son to serve me,” Confucius says.

“You wouldn’t be alive without me,” my dad merrily likes to remind me; “well I didn’t ask to be born,” is my scowling reply.

But that I didn’t ask to be born is irrelevant, Confucians would say. No one did. We are simply the latest vessel of an ancestral life force nurturing itself across generations.

Our parents did the work; their parents did the work; their parents did the work. Now, Confucius implores in The Li Ki, it’s our turn to take responsibility:

The superior man, going back to his ancient fathers and returning to the authors of his being, does not forget those to whom he owes his life; and therefore he calls forth all his reverence, gives full vent to his feelings, and exhausts his strength in discharging this service – as a tribute of gratitude to his parents he dares not but do his utmost.

Jane English: is it right to say we ‘owe’ our parents?

In a 1979 paper, the philosopher Jane English objects to what she labels the ‘debt theory’ of parent-child relations. Relationships shouldn’t be built on reciprocity or tit for tat, they should be built on mutuality, on friendship.

Parent-child relationships are no different. Strictly speaking, given none of us asked to be born, children never ‘owe’ anything to their parents in the first place (told you, dad!).

Parents had children, and then were responsible for caring for those children. Are parents entitled to endless service, honor, and praise from their children simply for taking responsibility for their own actions?

If anything, seeing as parents are the only party to ‘opt in’ to the relationship – seeing as they volunteered to create and raise us – maybe they just need to accept that the relationship will always be imbalanced accordingly: the duty of care primarily falls on them.

Besides, if we receive someone’s voluntary spontaneous help that we haven’t specifically requested, then it seems strange to say we now officially ‘owe’ them something. Do I ‘owe’ my friend for treating me to dinner? Do I ‘owe’ my parents for changing my nappies?

English suggests that past sacrifices don’t create ‘debts’, rather they foster love or ‘friendship’.

If we’ve received support and consideration from our parents, we might do nice things back, not because we ‘owe’ them, but just because that’s what nice people on friendly terms do for each other.

If my friend treats me to dinner, I might treat them to something in future; but we shouldn’t be keeping tabs here. Any duties I have are produced by the quality of the relationship itself, not grounded by some kind of material or emotional indebtedness.

So, if parents and children have good relations, based in love and friendship, then children ought to listen to their parents growing up, and help and support them when needed, just as we’d support a friend who needs us.

But there is no default parental ‘debt’ that children must ‘repay’, she argues. There is no unconditional filial duty. Transactional, entitled language has no place in what should be a mutually loving relationship.

If parents do not sow seeds of love and friendship in how they care for their children, then children have no obligations at all to their parents.

English formulates her view into a couple of conditions. What children ought to do for their parents, she writes,

depends upon (1) their respective needs, abilities, and resources, and (2) the extent to which there is an ongoing friendship between them.

Our duties last as long as the relationship lasts. If a parent disowns or shows no interest in their child, it would be unreasonable to think the child still ‘owes’ their parent Confucian-like service or reverence.

So, what do we owe our parents?

We may think English offers a crucial point in tying our duties to the quality of the relationship, but we might also wonder if her model really captures what makes parent-child relations distinctive.

Our bond with our parents or primary caregivers is not just like any other friendship; if it weren’t for our parents, we wouldn’t be here.

Claiming what we owe to our parents hinges only on the quality of our ongoing relationship perhaps makes it too easy to escape our obligations.

If a parent enters a difficult phase of life, and this affects the quality of their relationship with their children, does this absolve the child of all responsibility and care? Do the past efforts and sacrifices of our parents count for nothing?

While we may not owe our parents in the strict sense of being materially indebted to them, some philosophers claim that we do owe them gratitude, and this gratitude obliges us to help our parents even if our relationship suffers.

We didn’t ask our parents to create us, but they didn’t choose to create us – us specifically – either. Even the most considered decisions to have a child involve a tremendous leap of faith.

So, whether we ground our efforts in a Confucian sense of reverence or a more general conception of gratitude: if our parents did the best they could with the resources and emotional capacities available to them, then shouldn’t we at least try to offer back the same, even if it feels hard to do so?

Or is Jane English right in declaring that, if parents do not foster ongoing love and friendship in the relationship, then children owe them nothing at all?

Note: this is an abridged preview of my upcoming book, The Philosophy Prescription: Lessons from Big Thinkers for Every Stage of Life, published by Penguin Random House. This article is adapted from Chapter 2, ‘Being Someone’s Child’. If you enjoyed it, I’d be honored if you’d consider checking out the book!

What do you make of English’s analysis?

• Do we ‘owe’ our parents for bringing us into existence?
• Are we born with certain duties to our parents?
• Or, rather than obligation and indebtedness, are love and friendship better lenses through which to view the relationship?

To inform your reflections, you might enjoy the following related Philosophy Breaks:

• ​Should Parenting Require a License?​
• ​Antinatalism: David Benatar’s Asymmetry Argument for Why it’s Wrong to Have Children​
• ​Laurie Ann Paul on How to Approach Transformative Decisions​
• ​Confucius: Rituals Grind Our Characters Like Pieces of Jade​
• ​Why Children Make Great Philosophers: Interview with Scott Hershovitz​
• ​Ethics and Morality: ​​the Best 10 Books to Read

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