Lice, Biopolitics

On the second day of school, before he could take his seat in the circle around his teacher, my son's hair had to be inspected by one of the four luizenmoeders [i.e., lice-mothers]. While he was quietly undergoing the inspection for Pediculus humanus capitis with an unsharpened pencil, I was quickly informed this was a biweekly ritual; "if they find lice," my informant told me, "they send him home at once; a real pain." Dutch society still assumes that at least one of the parents (i.e., the mother) is able to drop everything else in our ongoing battle with critters. She must have seen the flash of panic on my face, and added, "it doesn't happen very often." Meanwhile, the luizenmoeder-in-charge effortlessly managed to obtain my email address, "in case we need to contact you."

While since the pioneering days of Swammerdam (see this image), the Dutch have always been fascinated by lice and civic hygiene (see Schama on Mandeville), I didn't recall this ritual from youth, and -- indeed -- it seems 'luizenmoeder' seems to have entered Dutch around 2000. (Sadly google does not have Ngrams in Dutch yet.) When one googles, 'luizenmoeder,' one finds three kinds of articles: (a) reports from anguished mothers that are berated by other moms for not volunteering their skills; (b) reports from anguished moms that are berated by their daughters for volunteering their skills to participate in a shameful and yucky ritual; (c) politicians purportedly anguished about the lack of luizenvaders (a word that entered Dutch apparently in 2001). The glacial progress of Dutch feminism is indicated by the fact that instances of (c) are relatively rare and more recent than instances of (a-b).

My son was cleared and his name checked in a chart maintained by the luizenmoeder-in-charge. (I was impressed that his name was on the chart.) While he headed back to his place in the circle in the class-room, I gratefully received a goodbye-hug from him and headed toward my bike. I really didn't want to contemplate the possible risks to my son that I could be contacted about by the luizenmoeder-in-charge. So, I started to wonder what the fall-out would be if I would ever decline his participation in this bi-weekly (that is, every two weeks) ritual. (I do not recall any mention of sanction in the blue school-rules-brochure.) Some googling around reveals that the government has, in fact, reflected on removing state subsidies from parents who are free-riders when it comes to participating in such school-supporting-activities, but apparently there is no concern at all about the very possibility that conformity-loving Dutch parents might decline to submit their children to de luizenmoeder-brigade.

So, this is how I am letting my son be habituated into a system of routinized, external bodily control. In the Netherlands this is, in fact, quite invasive; state welfare agencies literally demanded access to our house to check on him within a week after his return from the hospital after his birth. (That access is backed by law.)

The head-lice-inspection at my son's school is a nice example of a bottom-up norm.  While undoubtedly it can be explained and rationalized, the fact is that my son was compelled to undergo it without any explanation at all. (We Dutch like to think we educate our children into independence and autonomy.) I never understand the general fondness for submitting to spontaneous order among some serious thinkers because such orders can be irrational and, say, anxiety producing. Is the head-lice-inspection-ritual at my son's school a badge of freedom? I shudder to think of the reaction, if I had asked for high quality, empirical evidence that this ritual is either effective in catching outbreaks of head-lice at an early enough stage or worth the opportunity costs in time and energy, not to mention anxiety of the participants and bystanders involved. (Of course, I am not about to risk making my son a social outcast by taking a principled stance on the freedom of movement of any possible lice on his body.)

The functionality of the ritual is, of course, to be explained in part that parents are seen to care about the health and safety of their children. (Although I sometimes worry about the effect of an earthquake-induced-tidal-wave on Dutch nuclear reactors, Holland is otherwise one of the safest places in the universe.) For all I know the ritual may also enhance community and social capital. Parents are induced to hang around with each other, after all.

Meanwhile my balding head has been itching all morning.

Comments

[ingrid robeyns]

Welcome back in the blogosphere - we missed you!

Yes, Dutch parents are very conformity loving. One could write a book about that…

In my son's school they call them 'Luizenouders'. We also have 'klassenouders' en 'hulpouders' who occasionally help on a one-off basis with some activity. Still, last year (group 1/2) I have only twice seen a man on the list of volunteer hulpouders (my husband used to be one of those lice-hunters, in fact, and he was the only father). But this years, the 'klassenouders' (who facilitate all the communication between teachers and parents, who organize get-togethers for all parents outside school, etc. and hence who are doing most work of all parents) are two fathers. So we should, even if statistically their participation is by far not as much as mothers', use the gender neutral terms. If only because it might make clear some expectations…

[Eric Schliesser]

Ingrid, I'll check what the official term at my son's school is; I may have done the school injustice in my adopted terminology. The website of the official Dutch society of parents devoted to combating head lice, does speak of 'luizenouders:'

By the way, I do hope you do write a book about the conformity-loving nature of my country-parenting-folk some day.