What I think we should be doing is refocusing all the prevention

Hear now the words of Andrea Leadsom, who spoke with foresight and conviction: “What I think we should be doing is refocusing all the prevention budgets, all the money spent on teen gangs and young offenders, on conception to age two at a rate of 2% a year.” These words may appear as the language of policy, yet beneath them beats the eternal wisdom of humanity: that the roots of a tree are shaped long before its branches grow, and that the fate of nations depends on how they nurture their youngest souls.

For Leadsom points us to the most sacred window of life—the years from conception to age two. It is here, in the silence of the womb and the innocence of the infant, that the foundations of mind and heart are laid. The child’s brain, like soft clay, is shaped by love or neglect, by safety or fear. To wait until the youth has already strayed into gangs or crime is to try to bend a tree grown crooked. The truest wisdom is to tend the seedling, to water it with care, to shield it from storm, so that when it grows, it may stand upright and strong.

History bears witness to this truth. In the city of Sparta, the state cared deeply for the training of children from their earliest years, for they knew that the future warrior was shaped not at sixteen but at six. In a different age, the philosopher Aristotle wrote that the habits instilled in the earliest years become the destiny of the adult. And in our own time, science has revealed that the first thousand days of life determine not only health and intellect, but the very character of the person. Leadsom’s call is thus not merely political, but ancient and universal.

The meaning of her words grows clearer when we see the futility of pouring endless wealth into punishment while neglecting prevention. To spend only on controlling teen gangs and young offenders is to pour water upon flames while ignoring the spark that ignites them. Leadsom’s wisdom is that if but a small fraction of those funds were redirected to nurture the earliest years of life, the very source of the fire would be extinguished. The cycle of crime and despair would weaken, not by force, but by love, guidance, and care at the dawn of life.

Consider the tale of Frederick Douglass, who once said, “It is easier to build strong children than to repair broken men.” His life itself was proof: neglected in youth, scarred by slavery, he bore burdens that early love and opportunity might have spared him. Yet through will and wisdom, he rose to greatness. His words, like Leadsom’s, remind us that while repair is possible, prevention is the greater act of mercy and strength.

Therefore, my child, learn this lesson: if you would build a strong society, begin not with prisons, but with cradles; not with punishment, but with nurture. Let every effort be made to ensure that mothers and fathers, from conception onward, have the support they need to love, feed, and guide their children. For the future is not written in the courts, but in the nurseries, where the character of the next generation is being silently formed.

What then must you do? In your own life, invest your care in the young. Give patience to the child, encouragement to the struggling parent, and resources where you are able. Advocate that society value the earliest years above all, for it is there that the battle for the future is truly won. In your household, in your community, and in your nation, let the care of children be regarded not as expense, but as the holiest of investments.

So let Andrea Leadsom’s words endure as a call across the ages: “Refocus the budgets… on conception to age two.” It is not merely the wisdom of policy, but the eternal truth of life—that to raise strong children is to raise a strong world. Let this be the legacy of every generation: to plant seeds in love, so that the forests of the future may grow in strength, beauty, and peace.