Lesley Riddoch: We need to teach our children the value of risk

Published on Sunday 15 February 2009 20:56

POLITICIANS and journalists should be grateful to bankers. With their greedy, thoughtless, spendthrift ways, they have surely replaced hacks and MSPs as the least trusted professionals. Last week, though, the money men encountered competition – from personal injury lawyers warning schools to ban snowball fights or run the risk of litigation.

This is ludicrous. You don't have to be Miss Smilla to have feelings for snow. Danish writer Peter Heg wrote about the infinite variety of the white stuff in his 1992 classic novel and Miss Smilla's Feeling for Snow hasn't been out of print since. Partly because the heroine is a Nordic version of Indiana Jones – gutsy, impulsive, independent and (yet) female – and partly because her daily life, dreams, nightmares and the single event that shapes the novel are all experienced through the prism of snow.

The unbreakable Nordic connection with nature adds an extra dimension to daily life, national character and popular culture. And perhaps explains why – even in the land of Ian Rankin – Scandinavian crime thrillers are apparently outselling native talent.

Our Nordic cousins have a feeling for snow – and adventure too. Winter-time in Oslo means business knocks off at 3pm on Fridays to let everyone hit the slopes in the same way Australians or Californians hit the beach. Norwegian children wear thermal ski outfits to kindergarten so they can spend the bulk of the day outside – playing and learning in the snow. Finns return from community deer-culls to the welcoming dark heat of saunas in every home. Icelanders debate the collapse of their government in outdoor hot tubs supplied by geothermal springs. And Swedes complain of depression when, like last year, temperatures are so mild the Baltic doesn't freeze properly. Ice plunges, ice-skating, ice swimming and ice fishing all depend on a dry and very cold climate. And Nordic people depend on regular sorties into that world to stay fit, sane and connected to the risks and thrills nature provides. It's perhaps no coincidence that snow-loving, outdoor-oriented, skiing and snowboarding Scandinavian kids (who also inhabit perfectly insulated homes) are healthier and happier than British kids – though their mothers are just as likely to work. These people have embraced their geography and chosen to deal with the cold, snow and darkness a sub-arctic climate brings. We choose to duck our geography – and behave as if we were living in Surrey.

So in Scotland, some schools have banned the throwing of snowballs in case a child is struck in the eye by pieces of grit picked up with the soft snow. It beggars belief.

A personal injury lawyer says the creation of "snowball zones" might even further the risk of legal action: "If a child was struck in the face with a snowball and lost an eye, the argument could be that the school allowed the children to throw these things around. They could be seen as encouraging or facilitating the activity. Having an area might make them more liable than if they didn't."

This is risk aversion gone mad.

Healthy children start to take their lives in their own hands from the moment they are born. They have contact with unclean surfaces at home, they mix with other kids and their germs at nursery, they have school picnics in fields with cowpats – they have exposure to risk which generally strengthens their immune systems. And the immune system is a child's main source of protection throughout life – not a finger-waving adult.

Bans on touching, hugging, snowball fights, outdoor activity, school trips and playing on streets have created a state of near-permanent infantilisation for our children. When they finally emerge from the cotton wool, some cannot cope. No wonder many teenagers drink to excess. What "legitimate" ways are left to experience the thrill of going even slightly beyond the pale?

Scotland has more CCTV than anywhere else in Europe. Has it resulted in more confident, outgoing people or weakened belief in individual ability to judge situations? Well-developed survival instincts sharpen reflexes, encourage confidence and promote an outgoing approach to life. Use them or lose them.

Miss Smilla is a story for our times narrated by an outgoing, female protagonist. No wonder it's not required reading in Scottish schools. We'd be churning out generations of snow-loving feminists – and we can't be having that, because macho Caledonia tends to resist change; it doesn't adapt to it.

One snowy year, even a snowy decade, isn't enough to justify a change of approach. The white stuff will therefore remain a health and safety hazard – a set of accidents waiting to happen. A curse that will soon be lifted. A reason to stay home, stay indoors, stay passive and stay still.

It doesn't have to be like this.

The cold snap has been an opportunity for personal renewal – and that's precisely what we need. A dozen bankers have frittered away our future, we fell for their "get-rich-quick" promises and now we don't know what to do – it's all true. Lethargic and inert, we sit indoors waiting for the axe to fall.

But our children don't.

Almost everywhere last week, they woke up to a winter wonderland, and temporarily infected adults with their fun, resourcefulness and determination to adapt to a world of snow. Skis, tough plastic bags, trailers, snowboards – all were deployed in the exciting business of getting from A to B. Play and native intelligence helped families and friends to cobble together makeshift travel arrangements. Bonding and altered reality were experienced without even a whiff of the demon drink. And it was great.

The snow may be going, but the need to change outlook hasn't. As the Norwegians say: there is no bad weather, only inappropriate clothing. It's time for us to toughen up, button up and get back out there.