There is too much fathering going on just now and there is no

The words of Gertrude Stein—“There is too much fathering going on just now and there is no doubt about it fathers are depressing”—arrive like a spark cast into the dim hearth of human tradition. At first glance, they seem rebellious, even irreverent; yet beneath their sharpness lies a profound reflection on authority, freedom, and the spirit of individuality. Stein, the bold voice of the modern age, was not speaking merely of fathers in the domestic sense, but of the fathering spirit—the overbearing impulse of control, dominance, and instruction that so often crushes the natural growth of the soul. Her words are a cry for renewal, for liberation from the oppressive weight of excessive guidance, for the rebirth of the self unshadowed by the fear of authority.

To understand this saying, one must know the time and mind of Gertrude Stein. She lived in an age of transformation—the early twentieth century—when the old order of tradition, hierarchy, and patriarchy was giving way to new voices of freedom: artists, thinkers, women, and visionaries seeking to define themselves outside the inherited molds of power. In that context, “too much fathering” meant the suffocating presence of authority figures—those who dictated what must be thought, believed, or done. To Stein, this endless fathering—whether from patriarchs, governments, or even the voices of critics—stifled the creative heart of humanity. Thus, her lament was not a rejection of fathers themselves, but of control without compassion, of authority without understanding.

The “depressing” quality of fathers, in Stein’s sense, comes not from malice, but from repetition—the endless echo of old rules, old certainties, and old fears. When authority ceases to guide and begins to dictate, it becomes a shadow over the living spirit. The ancient sages knew this truth. Even in the time of Socrates, the youth of Athens rebelled against the fixed wisdom of their elders. Socrates himself was condemned by those who feared the new light he kindled in their sons. Thus, every age must confront its own fathers—not with hatred, but with courage—to clear space for the birth of something new.

There is a story told of Galileo Galilei, who looked through his telescope and saw the heavens not as the Church fathers had described them, but as they truly were—vast, moving, and alive. When he spoke this truth, he was silenced, forced to kneel before the great authority of his time. Yet his mind could not be caged. In that moment, Galileo embodied Stein’s rebellion: the defiance of a “fathering” world that preferred obedience to discovery. For too much fathering, whether by rulers or dogmas, always seeks to still the questioning mind—and when questioning dies, truth itself grows dim.

And yet, Stein’s words are not merely a cry of revolt—they are also a plea for balance. For though the ancient world honored the figure of the father as the bearer of order, even order must know when to yield to growth. The wise father is one who teaches his child to walk alone, not one who carries him forever. In this sense, Stein’s quote is a mirror to every generation: that love must not become control, that guidance must not become imprisonment, that creation must be free to unfold in its own light.

In the realm of the soul, “too much fathering” can mean the inner tyranny of self-judgment—the voice within that insists we must always do, be, and achieve more. Such inner authority can depress the spirit as surely as any external one. The ancients taught that the balance of life is found between structure and spontaneity, between law and liberty. When law dominates, life stiffens into conformity; when liberty runs wild, chaos reigns. Stein’s wisdom is thus a reminder to let go—to trust the natural rhythm of becoming, and to make room for wonder where once there was only instruction.

From her insight we draw this lesson: beware the weight of excessive authority, whether from others or from within yourself. Respect the wisdom of those who came before, but do not let their shadows blot out your light. Love the father, but do not let the father rule your every step. To teach is noble; to over-teach is tyranny. To guide is love; to control is fear. The world does not need more fathering—it needs more listening, more nurturing, more courage to let the child of imagination grow unrestrained.

Thus, Gertrude Stein, in her fierce and unconventional way, calls us to maturity—not the maturity of obedience, but of authenticity. She reminds us that progress is born when reverence gives way to renewal, when the child becomes his own creator. And so we must remember: the purpose of the father is not to make another copy of himself, but to prepare a being who will stand free, unafraid, and alive in the uncharted dawn of his own becoming.