Cultural and developmental factors (some people being more likely both to be rational and not want kids for external reasons) are going to swamp pure “rationality” on this subject. Which means we don’t have a control group, or even a particularly clear idea of what a control group would look like.
So I agree with David Gerard’s more introspective approach—the most rational thing to do seems to be to figure out exactly what we think we know about having children vis a vis our ideas of what would be a good idea.
So, doing just that: my main rational aversion to having kids is that it takes a lot of time, and I value my time pretty highly. My main emotional aversion (emotional reasons tending to be deceptively powerful) is that raising a kid seems like it would require things that I am utterly unprepared for—by which I mostly mean social skills, I’m not scared of changing a diaper. I could learn them, almost certainly, but that doesn’t dissolve the feeling of unpreparedness.
Upon introspection, maybe I just don’t think kids are as interesting as other people do because I connect with people on a mainly intellectual level, which would be a general argument. But that depends on the child—I probably would find my past self likeable and my past activities interesting-ish above age 8. But still, maybe other people find doing things like watching kids’ soccer games enjoyable where I would bring a book.
As for the good parts, the best seems to be that you get to make a new person. Possibly a cool person, who makes you feel a sense of pride and love every time you see them. I’d probably learn all those skills I mentioned, and plenty more that I wasn’t even thinking of. I’d understand people better. I’d have someone to take care of me in my old age, which could be nice even if my old age doesn’t involve a dying body.
I was a lot like this. I didn’t end up having my child until I was 40, after something somewhat resembling an overextended adolescence. I think it was feeling I’d found just the right partner.
In any case, I knew I wanted children but didn’t feel ready, then I did feel this could work when I was with someone I felt I could raise children with for the next couple of decades. And so far it’s going pretty well.
(And then the teenagers landed on our doorstep, so I got to experience adolescent angst from the outside about a decade earlier than I’d expected. FUN TIMES!)
I do regret not having as much freedom to party and get drunk and chase loose persons. On the other hand, my offspring is (as any father will tell you) the most beautiful and charming child in the world, when I say “she’s so smart!” there’s a shudder in my voice and we have realised the important goal here is to steer her away from becoming the next Dark Lord. She likes hissing like a snake already.
In general, the most difficult task in my life has been to work out what I actually really want: what will satisfy me. Note I say “satisfy me” rather than “make me happy”—I’m much clearer on the former as a guiding principle than the latter. For many people, the hardest part of getting things done is to work out what it is they really want to get done—what their true goals are.
Cultural and developmental factors (some people being more likely both to be rational and not want kids for external reasons) are going to swamp pure “rationality” on this subject. Which means we don’t have a control group, or even a particularly clear idea of what a control group would look like.
So I agree with David Gerard’s more introspective approach—the most rational thing to do seems to be to figure out exactly what we think we know about having children vis a vis our ideas of what would be a good idea.
So, doing just that: my main rational aversion to having kids is that it takes a lot of time, and I value my time pretty highly. My main emotional aversion (emotional reasons tending to be deceptively powerful) is that raising a kid seems like it would require things that I am utterly unprepared for—by which I mostly mean social skills, I’m not scared of changing a diaper. I could learn them, almost certainly, but that doesn’t dissolve the feeling of unpreparedness.
Upon introspection, maybe I just don’t think kids are as interesting as other people do because I connect with people on a mainly intellectual level, which would be a general argument. But that depends on the child—I probably would find my past self likeable and my past activities interesting-ish above age 8. But still, maybe other people find doing things like watching kids’ soccer games enjoyable where I would bring a book.
As for the good parts, the best seems to be that you get to make a new person. Possibly a cool person, who makes you feel a sense of pride and love every time you see them. I’d probably learn all those skills I mentioned, and plenty more that I wasn’t even thinking of. I’d understand people better. I’d have someone to take care of me in my old age, which could be nice even if my old age doesn’t involve a dying body.
I suppose I’m still undecided.
I was a lot like this. I didn’t end up having my child until I was 40, after something somewhat resembling an overextended adolescence. I think it was feeling I’d found just the right partner.
In any case, I knew I wanted children but didn’t feel ready, then I did feel this could work when I was with someone I felt I could raise children with for the next couple of decades. And so far it’s going pretty well.
(And then the teenagers landed on our doorstep, so I got to experience adolescent angst from the outside about a decade earlier than I’d expected. FUN TIMES!)
I do regret not having as much freedom to party and get drunk and chase loose persons. On the other hand, my offspring is (as any father will tell you) the most beautiful and charming child in the world, when I say “she’s so smart!” there’s a shudder in my voice and we have realised the important goal here is to steer her away from becoming the next Dark Lord. She likes hissing like a snake already.
In general, the most difficult task in my life has been to work out what I actually really want: what will satisfy me. Note I say “satisfy me” rather than “make me happy”—I’m much clearer on the former as a guiding principle than the latter. For many people, the hardest part of getting things done is to work out what it is they really want to get done—what their true goals are.
I once knew a couple who referred to their one year old daughter as the “evil overlord.” I’m not completely unworried what happened to her.