Details of the entanglement between British Home Secretary David Blunkett and Spectator publisher Mrs Kimberly Quinn should never have become public, but now that they have it would be silly to pretend that this is not a matter of genuine as well as prurient public interest. John Waters writes.
For here can be observed a fascinating playing-out of British cultural prejudices and assumptions, as well as an extraordinary visitation of the most glaring lacuna in modern human rights provision to the heart of the British cabinet.
A common refrain of media commentary suggests that the best outcome would be for the Home Secretary to get on with his career and leave Mrs and Mr Quinn to bring up "their" children. The husband, Stephen Quinn, has made much of his love for his wife and expressed his determination to carry out what he calls his obligations. "They are my children and I love them and I am not interested in biological details," he said. When one learns that Mr Quinn was raised by foster parents in Co Kilkenny and has "a passionate disinterest" in the identity of his natural mother, this otherwise bizarre observation becomes a little more comprehensible.
It appears clear, however, that Mr Quinn is neither the father of his wife's two-year-old boy nor the child due in a couple of months. Both children, it seems, are Mr Blunkett's. Mr Quinn's dismissal of "biological details" is, in this instance, interestingly limited to the issue of paternity. He seems not to realise that this outlook delivers not just Mr Quinn himself, but also Mr Blunkett and two children into the hands of a selfish, faithless and emotionally ruthless woman. Nor does he appear to have considered that, should he become as superfluous to his wife's requirements as Mr Blunkett now is, neither he nor the children will be protected against whatever choices a relaunched Ms Fortier might then decide upon.
Mr Quinn's analysis is a slightly enhanced version of a more subtle generalised prejudice to the effect that male parenthood occurs by appointment of mothers, that fathers are interchangeable and that there is little distinction to be made other than on the basis of how mothers regard men as suiting their purposes. This prejudice is parallelled by an assumption in law and child-protection circles that "the best interests of the children" inevitably follow a path dictated by the mother's wishes and choices.
Predictably, Mr Blunkett's determined stand against such notions has attracted the ire of a bogus liberalism deriving its logic from the egotism of mother, and a fossilised conservatism that elevates the cohesion of conventional family unit above the imperatives of blood. "Liberals" condemn Mr Blunkett's assertion of what they tendentiously and snidely describe as "paternal rights", whereas conservatives turn their faces against him for, as they see it, attacking a de-facto "family" unit.
Adultery is far more prevalent than we pretend to know. Research studies have suggested that in many Western societies perhaps 30 per cent of children are not the progeny of the man named on their birth certificates. Hitherto, such realities were elided because family integrity was thought more important to society than biological connection. But recent scientific studies suggest that the psychic well-being of children is maximised by strong relationships with both natural parents. In the rapidly descending graph from this ideal, shared parenting and even sole-custody with effective access provisions, come ahead of step-families in the hierarchy of suitability.
The point of society's interest in upholding marriage is to maximise the protection of children in their natural environment, not to hold them hostage against the imperatives of biology. To be governed by the logic of Mrs Quinn's marital circumstances would therefore be to make a fetish out of marriage, to mistake the rind for the fruit.
It is no longer the case that four walls, a roof, the natural mother and a man of her choosing can automatically be deemed to represent the best option for children. There is, here, another "family" unit, comprising Mrs Quinn, Mr Blunkett and, soon, two children, the recognition of which will enable those children's interests to be maximised, whether or not their parents live together. The Home Secretary is therefore behaving quite properly in seeking contact and parental responsibility.
The depiction of Mr Blunkett as "obsessive" is something many men encounter in these situations. In a culture that routinely demonises fathers for irresponsibility, a man who takes the culture at its word and seeks to acquit himself, is even more harshly regarded. This pejorative characterisation extends to the depiction of the dispute as a "custody struggle" of Mr Blunkett's instigation. But it was Mrs Quinn who precipitated the proceedings by refusing Mr Blunkett the means to conduct a relationship with his child. As a father he had two options: manfully stand his ground or walk away from his children.