Sibling rivalry makes for a great family soap opera
As one of a clan of five, Rowan Pelling knows the forces that thrust Rachel Johnson and Annunziata Rees-mogg into the limelight
Recent declarations from Rachel Johnson and Annunziata Rees-mogg, who have announced their ambitions to join (or even replace) their older brothers on the political stage, may seem odd to those for whom in-kin jousting is not sport. But as one of five siblings, I feel a pang of recognition: I know their intent is not some accident of fate. It’s playroom destiny.
It’s long seemed to me that the number of siblings you have and where you come in the family pecking order are probably the most important factors in establishing character and motivation. The clinical psychologist Linda Blair,
author of Siblings: How to Handle Sibling Rivalry to Create Lifelong
Loving Bonds agrees, believing Johnson’s and Rees-mogg’s decision to stand as MEPS are a perfect example of this.
“When you look at the sort of ambitions that individuals have and then go back to their family structure, remember the cardinal rule is that they distinguish themselves from all others in the nest,” she says, adding that a firstborn daughter – especially one whose status is unique as the only girl among boys (true of Rachel Johnson) – is likely to feel as confident as an oldest son.
The Johnsons have already had their share of political tête-à-têtes, of course. And no one understands the propelling force of family competitiveness better than “famous firstborn” Boris. Some years back, when he was editor of The Spectator, he asked if I’d write a profile of William Blair, Tony’s older brother – at the time a hugely successful QC specialising in financial law.
When I asked why, Johnson said with gleeful recognition that Tony was a classic younger brother who wanted to play with the big boys on the international stage and outdo his high-flying sibling. It was long before Boris’s younger brother Jo followed him as a Tory MP, let alone Rachel Johnson’s announcement this week that she will stand as a European elections candidate for Change UK.
Linda Blair’s work highlights
research showing firstborn children are disproportionately likely to end up in positions of leadership: she describes the phenomenon as, “You were in the limelight and you want to stay there. Also, you never lose the desire to please authority figures.”
Surely Annunziata, as the youngest of five Rees-moggs, might buck the trend? Blair points out that as she’s by far the junior, with a 10-year gap between her and nextbrother-up Jacob, she’ll have entirely different characteristics to those of a normal youngest child. Children born after a significant gap display many of the same traits of firstborns.
I’m the third of our clan, and remember well my big brother explaining why he didn’t need to win at cards: “I arrived first, I used the potty first and I’ll always be older than all of you. I’ve nothing to prove.” In so saying he demonstrated that well-worn oldest child’s birth-anointed right to exercise a little light superiority.
Unlike my big brother, I have an inherent need to win at games
– but then I am a middle child, with an older brother and sister bearing down on me and a younger brother and sister to steal my thunder. I have no significant place in the family structure – I’m young enough to have worn hand-me-downs, but not young enough to have been spoilt with new things. One of my most piercing childhood memories is of my mother singing “You are my sunshine” to my golden-haired little brother at bedtime and feeling surging resentment she’d never sung me a lullaby. This probably explains why I once tied Hereward (four years my junior) to a post, put an apple on his head, got out my bow and arrows and tried to re-enact the legend of William Tell. He survived and developed a strong competitive streak all his own, often introducing himself as “the funniest Pelling”, a hotly contested title. Aged 51 and 47, we both work in the media – he’s a television director and producer – and we’d both rather take hemlock than admit we’ve
‘The cardinal rule is that they distinguish themselves from all others in the nest’
followed each other’s work.
It’s just as well none of we five siblings decided to go into politics. If one of us became an MP, the other four would feel compelled – not unkindly, just as a point of principle – to form a “Stop that Pelling” party. If you are the kind to find pleasure in emerging victorious over your siblings at Monopoly or a dinner-party squabble, imagine how much more honeyed a triumph at the ballot box would be.
As a keen watcher of real-life family soap opera, I’ll enjoy watching the Johnsons and Rees-moggs debate one another over Brexit. I won’t wince as I did over the Miliband brothers’ leadership contest. It’s one thing to join an older brother on the global stage – quite another to challenge him directly for the lead role and win, at which point drama turns to tragedy. In closely bonded families like the Johnsons there are limits to rivalry, while loyalty is boundless. Whatever our Pelling conflicts, we love each other dearly. But I am definitely the funniest.