Some years ago, I met a graduate student in psychology who lived in a farm commune in northern California. Eight to twelve adults shared the labor of a 120-acre dairy farm. More than half the grownups were also involved in higher level studies, and several were artists. Duties were apportioned according to skill, interest, and need. One adult was assigned to care for the three or four infants and toddlers. Older children attended a nearby public school, although an effort was made to extend their education at home.
Organization
and planning were discussed at a weekly house meeting.
The key philosophy was to share whenever possible, with
little distinction between adults and children. Children
shared wine at dinner, were included when a joint was
passed, and were asked their opinion on important matters.
Children's activities were seldom restricted. When not
studying or helping, they ran freely through the barn and
fields. As soon as they were old enough to walk a distance or
carry a load they were assigned chores which were a meaningful
and necessary part of the farm existence.
Thus a fouryear-
old was seen clasping with both arms a measure of hay
much larger than she was in order to feed the cow. Two
adults who liked children collected an entourage resembling
the Pied Piper's. It was difficult to match children with their
parents, since any grownup could instruct or nurture any
child. Occasionally a mother and her children, or a family
unit, would depart because of incompatibility or other interests.
Children grieved openly when the departure entailed
the loss of a valued friend.
Although the farmhouse was large, it was scarcely capacious
enough. Children roomed with adults, sometimes in
sleeping bags on the floor. Sexual activities were not only
observed but openly discussed. In the morning, children
would portray the last night's drama in a squirmy, giggling
heap, to the amusement of the adults.
Not only were the children exposed to the sights and
sounds of adult intercourse, but they also observed chickens,
dogs, and sheep. Copulation between favorite animals was a
continued subject of avid interest.
When the cow was taken
to be bred, six children accompanied the expedition to
observe and comment on the bull's awesome organ. Later the
children played out the scene in graphic detail in a game
called "Bang Bossie." Both boys and girls competed for the
favored role of bull but enjoyed the cow's position also. Passing
adults smiled or offered a humorous comment. Children
under four were never restrained from touching the breasts
of a lactating mother. Older children were deterred by
remarks such as "See? He still thinks he's a tit-baby." As children
grew, chores became more difficult.
The time devoted to
sex play was necessarily curtailed, but never absent.
During my many visits to the commune I spent time with
the children. As a group they seemed independent and sexually
astute. They appreciated social nuances and effectively
asserted themselves in meetings. I observed no irrational
fears, no exaggerated dependencies, and no disregard for the
feelings of others. These children were confident, cooperative,
and never arrogant. By the age of eight they were
restrained about sexual matters outside the commune. They
betrayed their sophistication by a whispered remark or a
mischievous grin.
This unusual background will continue to distinguish
these children in the future. They may not attain the educational
achievements of their parents and may have problems
adapting to the more conventional middle-class culture.
However, I am certain that the immense erotic enrichment
prior to puberty will serve as protective armor against later
sexual dysfunctions. Melting erections and absent climaxes
are unlikely where erotic play and orgasms have become a
way of life.