And I don't believe that children are innocent. In fact, no one

Hear the unsettling words of Michael Haneke, who dares to pierce one of society’s most comforting illusions: “And I don’t believe that children are innocent. In fact, no one seriously believes that. Just go to a playground and watch the kids playing in the sandbox! The romantic notion of the sweet child is simply the parents projecting their own wishes.” These words strike like thunder, for they challenge the long-cherished image of childhood as pure and untouched by darkness. Haneke, known for his stark and uncompromising vision in film, here unmasks a truth we often prefer to ignore.

The romantic notion of the child was born in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, when philosophers such as Jean-Jacques Rousseau declared that children were born pure, corrupted only by society. This vision replaced earlier religious views that saw children as born into sin, needing discipline and salvation. The Romantic poets—Wordsworth especially—sang of children as closer to heaven, their innocence a vision of paradise lost as they grew older. But Haneke, in the tradition of a realist, refuses such idealization. He insists that even in the youngest hearts we find selfishness, cruelty, rivalry, and desire—qualities that belong not to corruption, but to humanity itself.

Anyone who has watched children at play has seen this truth. In the sandbox, as Haneke says, there is joy, laughter, and imagination—but also jealousy, fights over toys, alliances and betrayals, small tyrannies and defiance. The child is not an angel fallen from the stars but a human being, raw and unshaped, whose impulses reflect the same mixture of love and cruelty found in adults. To pretend otherwise is not truth but projection—parents weaving their wishes of purity and sweetness onto their children, disguising what is truly there.

History offers countless examples of this truth. In ancient Sparta, children were raised not as innocents but as warriors-in-training, tested with hardships from their earliest years. The Spartans did not believe in cherishing a child’s “innocence”; they believed in shaping the raw human material into strength. And in more modern times, studies of childhood behavior confirm what any parent knows: children are capable of selfishness, manipulation, even casual cruelty, just as they are capable of love, generosity, and wonder. The myth of innocence blinds us to the complexity of the child’s soul.

Haneke’s words may seem harsh, but they hold wisdom. By denying the false romantic ideal of the angelic child, he calls us to see children as they are—full human beings, neither pure saints nor fallen demons, but creatures of immense potential, bearing both light and shadow. To see them truly is not to diminish them, but to honor them. For if we acknowledge their full humanity, we can guide them with honesty, rather than smother them with illusions.

The lesson is clear: do not project your own wishes onto others, least of all your children. Do not seek in them the fantasy of innocence you have lost, but instead see them as they are, with strengths and weaknesses, with cruelty and compassion, with selfishness and love. To see clearly is the beginning of true guidance, of real nurture, of preparing them to walk the path of life with open eyes.

Therefore, children of tomorrow, take Haneke’s words to heart. Do not cling to illusions, even when they comfort you. Seek truth, even when it unsettles you. See in every child not a romantic ideal, but a human soul—wild, untamed, and full of possibility. For only in truth can we raise future generations to be wise, strong, and compassionate.

Thus, Haneke’s challenge becomes timeless counsel: the innocence of children is a myth, but their humanity is real. Love them not for what you wish them to be, but for what they are—and in that honest love lies the greatest hope for the world.