When I say that healthy fear is called respect, that implies that there is also an unhealthy kind of fear. I’m not saying that living in a state of being intimidated by your parents is a good thing. Clearly not, as shown by the experience of several posters on this thread.
All I know is that for there to be a positive parent-child relationship where parents correct and guide their child, that child has to care, on some level, about what the parent thinks and what the parent will do. Partly it’s about not disappointing your parent, but it isn’t just about that.
Consider the children who don’t care about what their parents or their teachers will say or do about bad behaviour. You could say they have no fear of consequences, including being told off. They have no respect for the position of parent or teacher or school. They are utterly unruly, disrupting their education and that of their peers.
There seem to be a lot of these children in the U.K. today. Much more than in the past. Much more than in many other countries. It seems to me that these children are fearless. Concern (anxiety, I guess) for the consequences of actions seems necessary to keep at least some children from becoming ungovernable.
This thread has made me think about my secondary school education abroad in Africa. What was it that made us behave so much better than British children of today? I thought we could be cheeky to our teachers but it was so low level compared to what seems to be everyday-normal in many British state schools.
Caning was not an option our teachers had, so it wasn’t fear of that. Other than the force of their personalities, they could administer punishments like cleaning or grass cutting (with a machete!). These punishments were inconvenient but not fear-inducing. Being brought to the attention of our school head would be worse. She WAS intimidating. Behaviour miraculously improved when there were rumours she was in the vicinity. People sat up straight. I’m still not quite sure how that woman, a white British woman, in a patriarchal black African society, managed to not only maintain order in a coeducational school but make our school highly respected and desirable. And in our private moments relaxing in our dormitories, I heard fellow students say more than once, ‘If she goes, I go. This school won’t be the same without her.’ We feared her AND respected her.
Even worse than an audience with Miss X would be having your parents called in. That didn’t happen unless the situation was quite serious and would have been a serious personal failing for me who had been warned by my mother not to bring shame on the family. I felt I was representing my family and didn’t want them to be embarrassed by my behaviour at school. I was quick-tempered but managed to squash many urges to react or retaliate due to this.