If we keep on ignoring and leaving children to their own devices

Eric Braeden, with the gravity of one who has lived long and observed much, once declared: “If we keep on ignoring and leaving children to their own devices at home, they become latchkey kids, and trust me, the consequences of that are not good.” His words pierce like a bell tolling in the night, calling parents, guardians, and elders to awaken from indifference. He speaks not merely of children left alone after school, but of a deeper abandonment—the neglect of guidance, affection, and presence. For when the young are left without anchors, they drift into seas of uncertainty, and often into storms they cannot withstand.

The origin of this thought lies in the growing phenomenon of the latchkey kid, a term born in the 20th century as societies grew busier, and parents, pressed by labor and necessity, left their children unattended. Though born of economic and cultural shifts, the reality it describes is timeless: children without guidance grow vulnerable. Braeden, who has played roles of strength and fatherhood on screen, here speaks with the voice of a sage, reminding us that childhood is sacred ground. If left untended, weeds grow in place of flowers.

The ancients, too, warned of this truth. Plato, in The Republic, wrote that the education of the young shapes the destiny of the state. If children are left unformed, unguided, unprotected, the whole fabric of society begins to unravel. History proves this: when Rome, in its decline, allowed its families and moral structures to weaken, its youth grew restless and disordered, and the empire’s strength dissolved from within. So too in every age, neglect of the young bears bitter fruit.

Consider a more modern tale: in the aftermath of industrialization, when parents labored long hours in factories, many children roamed streets unattended. Some fell into mischief; others into crime; still others into despair. It was from such conditions that reformers rose, demanding schools, safe havens, and community programs. Their work echoed the wisdom of Braeden’s warning—that children, if left solely to their own devices, often suffer consequences that ripple far beyond their own lives, touching the strength of communities and nations.

Yet Braeden’s words are not only a warning but also a call to responsibility. He reminds us that children need presence—not only food and shelter, but watchful eyes, listening ears, and guiding hands. To ignore them is to forsake the future; to nurture them is to build it. The consequences he speaks of—alienation, mistrust, rebellion, or despair—are not inevitable if we choose instead to invest time, patience, and care.

The lesson for us is this: never be too busy to shape a young life. Whether as a parent, teacher, neighbor, or elder, recognize that children look not only to their families but to all adults around them. Every word, every action, every moment of presence plants a seed. Neglect plants weeds; attention plants strength. It is within our power to decide what harvest we will leave for the world.

Practical action must follow. Take time daily to speak with your children. Ask not only about their tasks but about their hearts. Create spaces where they feel safe, not only from harm but from loneliness. If you are without children of your own, mentor those in your community. Support schools, programs, and places that provide guidance and structure. Remember always that the young cannot guide themselves into wisdom—they must first see it lived before them.

So let Braeden’s words echo across generations: “The consequences of neglect are not good.” This is no mere warning, but a prophecy. Tend the children, guide them, be present, and you will see societies strengthened and futures brightened. Ignore them, and you will see the seeds of ruin. Choose, then, the higher path—for in the laughter, growth, and trust of children, we plant the enduring hope of the world.