Why a generation is choosing not to have children in Scotland – and what we can do about it
From jobs threatened by AI and toxic social media to global turmoil and climate change, there are many reasons why potential parents might think twice
When my partner and I were looking for a house, we looked for one with space for a child. We assessed each house based on price, location and kid-friendliness. On having an offer accepted, we gleefully texted our friends how perfect it was: the sunny kitchen, the welcoming neighbourhood, and a bedroom that had already been converted into a nursery, complete with jungle-print wallpaper.
Shortly after we moved in, we had a friendly social worker from the local council at our kitchen table to walk us through the adoption process. We read pamphlets, books and scoured online forums, we got medical screenings and worked out a budget for adoption leave.
Then the layoffs started. First one of our employers, citing business needs. Then the other, citing AI. Then subsequent rounds by both, for no defined reason. We saw the economy somersault overnight after a woefully mismanaged budget announcement. Wages stagnated, while costs skyrocketed.
We have watched with dismay as Andrew Tate’s misogyny has seeped into the mainstream and far-right rallies have appeared on the streets. Russia invaded Ukraine, the United States announced plans to annex Greenland, and the spectre of a Third World War haunted Scotland.
Parenthood has never been easy
Each time, we told ourselves: we’ll just wait a bit longer. Just until things stabilise. Two years later, the jungle-print nursery is my home office.
Not because we stopped wanting to be parents. But because over the last two years, we’ve realised we can’t confidently answer the question: are we sure we can raise a child to be happy, healthy and safe in today’s world?
Parenthood has never ever been an easy undertaking, for any generation. My parents worked backbreakingly hard to raise me and my three sisters. Bringing up four children meant that self-sacrifice was the thread that ran through their lives: early mornings, late nights, signing over entire paycheques to school fees, juggling school holidays without paid leave.
There was not a day that we did not, in some way, demand everything they had to give us. But even so, today’s mothers and fathers face challenges that even my formidable parents admit they would have been daunted by. They never worried that technology or geopolitics would take their jobs and zap their income overnight.
They never agonised over whether to give us phones, knowing that saying no meant social exclusion, but saying yes meant exposing us to pornography, cyberbullying, and exploitation. They didn’t recalculate their budget repeatedly as bills creeped steadily upwards, while wages stayed stubbornly the same. They didn’t see each year bring more raging fires, floods and storms, and feel dread at the thought of what it would be like after they were gone.
They did not watch the global political order fracture around them and find themselves discussing what they would do if the world fell violently apart at the seams. This is the environment we're expecting people to bring children into. And understandably, many are saying no. But here's the good news: we created this environment. So too can we change it.
Being serious about ‘The Promise’
We can continue down the path we’re on – watching potential parents reluctantly opt-out, one by one, of the families they dreamed of. Or we can decide that raising the next generation is not a heavy private burden but a collective responsibility. We can’t shield families from a volatile world, but we can build systems that help insulate them from the shocks.
On a policy level, we need to follow through on what we've already committed to. Scotland has “The Promise”: a vision to transform care for children and families. If we're serious about this commitment, we need to properly resource it. And beyond that, families need more help protecting their children.
We may not be able to regulate Silicon Valley from Holyrood, but we can ensure every child and caregiver learns digital resilience and online safety. And our ambitious climate targets are meaningless if we don't actually meet them: not when today's children will inherit the consequences.
On a community level, we've lost something essential: the feeling that children belong to all of us. When did we start seeing teenagers in groups as threats rather than young people finding their way? When did playing children become nuisances instead of signs of a healthy neighbourhood? We need to reclaim the knowledge that it ‘takes a village...’ – checking in on the parents we know, supporting their needs in the workplace, advocating for safe play spaces, and pushing back when children are treated as inconveniences.
And finally, individually, we need to stop pretending this is fine. It's not fine that child poverty continues to trap families. It's not fine that children are inheriting a climate crisis, are a click away from profound danger, and living in a culture that is more likely to exploit them than protect them. It’s not fine that young people are isolated, traumatised, anxious, and angry. It's not fine that people who want to be parents are looking at what that choice means in practice, and opting out.
Scotland is a country that values fairness, community, and sustainability. If we mean that – if we genuinely believe that every child deserves a safe, healthy, happy childhood – then we need to act like it. We need to act, collectively, like building a Scotland fit for children is not just someone else's job. It's all of ours.
Farah Mohammed-Cormack is a journalist-turned-marketer, and a trustee at Children First, Scotland’s national children’s charity. Her views are her own.
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