In memory of Jesper Juul: The big interview (part 1)

Odder, south of Aarhus in the east of Denmark. A small town with just under 12,000 inhabitants. The only place of interest: Odder Church, dating from 1150 AD, the oldest parish church in the country. Jesper Juul lives in a brick house on the third floor. Visitors can reach the top via an external staircase. There are herb beds on the roof terrace. There is a sign on the grey front door: Jesper Juul.

The door opens automatically. Jesper Juul rolls up in his electric wheelchair. The family therapist lives alone. The flat is wheelchair-accessible, bright, tidy and modern. Parquet flooring, hardly any furniture, lots of sloping ceilings. There is medication on the dining table and pictures of his grandchildren hanging on one wall. Jesper Juul can't work at the table. He has placed a tray on his lap. His notebook is on it. This is how he writes his books and columns.

It's shortly after 6 pm. The medication is taking effect and making Jesper Juul tired. He is struggling to concentrate. Nevertheless, he listens attentively and patiently answers our questions. He talks about his hope for less pain. And his idea of celebrating his 70th birthday next spring with lots of friends.

Mr Juul, for many parents you are Europe's most important pedagogue, a kind of grandfather of education. How does that make you feel?

It's not something I strive for. When I started working with families in 1975, nobody was talking about parenting methods. That's why my approach differs from that of the other experts. My thoughts stem from the view that it is not me, but the millions of mothers and fathers in the world who are the best experts for their children. They deserve this title more than I do.

So all those who seek your advice and buy your books.

They are the ones who give their best every day. That's precisely why I'm not interested in purely intellectual debates about parenting. We are all fundamentally different. We are influenced by our own history, by our family of origin, by conventions, culture and society. Set up a camera in a family and watch the parents when they are alone with their children. You will be amazed! Not even within the family do people agree on parenting, even if they have the same values and are on the same intellectual level. How can you give generalised advice?

You are also known as the family whisperer.

I like that term. I see it as a compliment.

For some, it sounds provocative.

My thing is provocation. I think I'm successful at that. I'm provocative because I hope that this will enable educators and parents to think outside the box and adopt a different perspective. In English, this is called «out of the box» thinking.

I am provocative because I hope that educators and parents will think outside the box.

You said in an interview that you regretted children who were brought up by their parents according to Judaism. Why?

Because I strongly believe that there should be no intellectual method between two people who are in a love-based relationship with each other. Not even a Juul method. I don't want a method at all. Rather, I believe that we should act spontaneously in the here and now and learn from our very own experiences. If we want to change and learn something, we need to reflect on our actions and enter into a dialogue with the people we love.

You once said that it was terrible to be a child. What was terrible about your childhood?

It was terrible that neither my parents nor my teachers were interested in me; in who I was and how I felt, what I thought and what ideas I had. They were only interested in my behaviour - how I acted and cooperated with the outside world.

You said the following about your mother: «She was like many mothers, she only thought about herself and never about what would be good for this boy.» That sounds very harsh.

My mother belonged to a generation in which mothers had a much closer bond with their children than with their husbands. These women came up short emotionally, were starved for affection and love. This was one of the reasons why their children became their closest allies. However, these relationships between mothers and children were often laden with experiences and emotions that belonged in the adult world and not in the children's world.

You have an adult son, Nicolai. What did you give him?

I recently spoke to him about this. He says that the most important thing for him was that his personal integrity always remained untouched and that he was able to develop his personality freely. I agree with him on that. I didn't try to raise him according to my own ideas.

How is your relationship with your son today?

We have a close but relaxed relationship. We are both rather introverted people. We love sitting together, cooking and being silent. We can be together for hours and no one says a word.

Which parenting style did you favour, more of a partnership or anti-authoritarian?

When we started a family, my wife and I agreed that we didn't want the patriarchal family concept for ourselves. I was perhaps the first or at least one of the few fathers to witness the birth of my own child in the delivery room. That was a very instructive and formative experience for me! My decision to stay at home as a father certainly had something to do with it.

You stayed at home?

When my son turned ten months old, I stayed at home with him during the day. For two years. My wife was still studying at the time and went to university. She came home around 3 pm. My work in a children's home started at 4 pm and lasted until 11 pm.

What kind of children's home was it?

Children were placed there - by the local authority or the state - who could no longer stay at home with their parents and could not attend a mainstream school. They were between 9 and 15 years old and stayed for 8 to 24 months.

You and your former wife brought up your son together. Was that right for you?

It was right at the time. But I was never satisfied with my role as a father.

As a father, I was angry and loud. Those years were very instructive for me - less so for my son, I'm afraid.

Why?

I was a soft, perhaps even lazy father - in the sense that I intervened much less than one would have expected of fathers. I realised that Nicolai would figure things out for himself if I waited a few minutes. Or a few hours. Or days. Without my know-it-all attitude, conflicts didn't even arise. However, I was also afraid that I could harm Nicolai. That's probably why I was sometimes more passive than I should have been.

In what way?

My son was a talented badminton player. He also competed in tournaments. But suddenly he no longer wanted to play because his coach was putting too much pressure on him. At the time, I understood his reasons. Today, I think I should have tried harder to persuade him to continue. But I was afraid of adding to the pressure he was already feeling.

How did you find your own personal «parenting style»?

Like all parents: according to the principle of trial and error. In other words, the method of trying out possible solutions until the desired solution is found. Or your own view of the whole thing has changed. Failures are part of the process. What we also had was the desire to do better than the generation before us.

Is there anything you would do differently as a father today?

I would be less tyrannical in the early years.

What do you mean?

When we clashed with our stubborn heads in the first three to four years, I grabbed my son hard by the arm. I was also angry and loud. Those years were very instructive for me - less so for Nicolai, I'm afraid.

You can also read part 2 of the big interview. In it, Jesper Juul reveals why he thinks parenting doesn't work and what his greatest wish is.