“Adults know what's best for children!”: A critical narrative analysis of children's participation rights in sports

Abstract

According to the United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child, children have the right to be heard in all matters that affect their participation in sports and due weight should be given to these views in accordance with a child's evolving capacity. Yet, to date, sports sociologists have paid little attention to participation rights, focusing instead on studying the violation of children's rights with regard to child labour, sexual harassment and abuse and measures for safeguarding young participants. Drawing upon data from a critical narrative study of sport for the very young in Norway (a country that has had children's rights in sport policy for nearly five decades), the article examines how actors (parents, children, coaches, managers) in sports clubs narrate the child's right to be heard. It explores what discourses/narratives of children in sport are constructed and in what ways children are positioned as rights bearers. The critical narrative discourse analysis reveals that children are seldom positioned as learning to be agentic beings, that technologies of dominance in sport work to discipline very young children into docile recipients of adult expertise, and children's right to be heard is peripheral to sports clubs’ agendas of professionalisation.

Introduction

The purpose of this paper is twofold: firstly, I aim to illuminate and understand the ways in which actors in sports clubs narrate the child's right to be heard in all matters that affect her/his participation. Secondly, I demonstrate how a critical narrative approach to studying children's rights in sport may have potential to transform discriminatory practises affecting children. My starting point is the premise that stories about children in sport (articulated by children, parents, guardians, coaches, club management, and sports federations) set limits on what can be said and done by children. Discourses or narrative ‘Truths’ of children as rights bearers make possible certain forms of social action and can limit or marginalise the alternatives (Foucault, 1972; Livholts and Tamboukou, 2015). The discussion is based on data generated in a qualitative study of Norwegian sports clubs using fieldwork, interviews and document analysis. Sport represents the largest organisation for children/youth in Norway, with 93% of young people participating in a non-profit sports club at some time in their formative years (Strandbu and Bakken, 2024) and their debut increasingly commences as early as 3 years of age, which is cause for concern in adult organised sport for children (Donnelly and Kerr, 2023).

To date sports sociologists have paid attention to violations of children's rights with regard to child labour (Donnelly 2008, 2023; Donnelly and Petherick 2004; Grenfell and Rhinehart, 2003), sexual harassment and abuse, and measures for safeguarding young participants (Brackenridge and Rhind, 2014; Eliasson, 2024), as well as rights of provision and access to sport for children (Lang, 2022). Yet, there exist few studies on how participation rights are interpreted and experienced in grassroots sport (Eliasson, 2017; Eliasson, Karp and Wickman, 2017; Everley, 2022; Lang, 2022; Pavlogiannis, Eliasson and Söderström, 2024). The latter contrasts with a sustained interest in children's participation rights in the sociology of childhood across various institutions such as the family, education, health, judiciary, local community, and more recently, social media (McMellon and Tisdall, 2020). Summarising three decades of research on children's participation rights, McMellon and Tisdall (2020) point specifically to the significant gap of knowledge on children's rights in play, leisure and sports, which they find baffling given the importance of these arenas for many children and young people. Their study also highlights persistent challenges to the realisation of participation rights and calls for new theoretical approaches that can disrupt concerns over failing implementation strategies. Hence, I explore the transformative possibilities of critical narrative inquiry to contribute to such an agenda (Dowling and Garrett, 2016; Reynaert and Roose, 2017).

Since the adoption of the United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child (UNCRC) in 1989 and its ratification in the following years by member states – notwithstanding the USA's refusal to ratify – national sports federations and clubs have been bound by its articles. The UNCRC is often referred to in a shorthand fashion as the ‘three Ps’: the total of 54 articles apply to rights associated with provision, protection, and participation for children and young people up to the age of 18 years old. Sport is not explicitly mentioned in the Convention but Article 31 states that every child has the right to relax, play and take part in cultural activities and many of the articles can be related to sport, and importantly, together they provide legally binding obligations on public authorities and their agents (such as sports federations/clubs) with regard to children's right to participate in sport, their right to express their opinions and be respected as individuals, and their right to be protected from maltreatment, discrimination and exploitation in sports contexts (David, 2005; Lang, 2022; Wyness, 2018). Although the UNCRC represents a breakthrough in relation to the recognition that children have personhood and a capacity to establish themselves, and they are not lesser beings in relation to adults, it is nonetheless wrought with challenges of interpretation not least with regard to a child's maturity and evolving capacity to self-determination, and the socio-economic, cultural and geo-political structures that inevitably impinge upon the realisation of these rights (Eliasson, 2017; Eliasson et al., 2017; Reynaert et al., 2009; Wyness, 2018).

I situate the current discussion within the literature of Children's Rights Studies that problematises the notion of rights, childhood and the realisation of rights in practice (Bendo, 2019; Raby, 2014; Reynaert et al. 2009). Children, childhood and children's rights are socio-culturally and historically defined, as too, are grassroots sports clubs and their practices. Ideas or ‘Truths’ about children in sport and children's right to express an opinion vary temporally, spatially and culturally. At any one time there exist competing narratives that offer a range of subject positions to children and adults in sport (Davies, 1990; Dowling, 2012). Wyness (2018) proposes that competing ideas about children's rights can be understood along a continuum. On the one hand, conservative ideas define children as vulnerable, dependent incompetents, ‘owned’ by parents who know what is best for them and children's rights are presumed to threaten a conventional Western family ideal. At the other end of the spectrum, liberationists claim that all humans, irrespective of age, can demonstrate a capacity to be a rights holder as a co-citizen. In between these positions, children are constructed as rights bearers in and through ongoing generational relations, who, despite their clout, are acknowledged as contributing to social settings alongside adults. The latter is the view expressed in the UNCRC (1989) that constructs children as human rights bearers whilst simultaneously acknowledging the vested rights of parents/guardians to offer guidance to their vulnerable children whose capacities are evolving.

At the crux of the latter lies, however, a range of different beliefs about when, and in what circumstances, children are sufficiently ‘mature’ to express a viewpoint and when adults have a responsibility for facilitating children's active participation and/or making decisions on their behalf. Save the Children (2011) highlighted the difference between a child's right to express a view, as opposed to a duty to speak up, and they further underline the need for adults to create safe spaces that encourage a child to articulate her/his views without due pressure. Children require sufficient information for decision-making, and moreover, adults need to explain their reasons for responding to the views given, particularly if children's viewpoints are ultimately rejected. In other words, the right to be heard can be conceptualised as a complex inter-relational, context-dependent, ongoing process in which an individual's agency is fluid.

Children's right to be heard and participation rights in the UNCRC

The UNCRC has a range of rights that are categorised as ‘participation rights’. Article 12 is pivotal and is also described as a general principle of the convention, often referred to as ‘the right to be heard’. It states that a child has the right to express her/his views freely in all matters affecting her/him and that due weight should be given to these views in accordance with the age and maturity of the child. It is closely associated with Article 13 about freedom of expression, Article 14 about freedom of thought, conscience and religion and Article 17 about access to information (McMellon and Tisdall, 2020). There are in total four general principles in the UNCRC: the right to be heard, the right of non-discrimination (Article 2), the right for the child's best interests to be given primary consideration (Article 3) and the right to life, survival and development (Article 6). These principles are interrelated and as Save The Children and UNICEF (2011) claim, ‘The right of children to express views is a means through which they can realise other rights’ (p. 31).

The legal text requires interpretation and to bridge the gap between policy and implementation, the UN Committee on the Rights of the Child has produced several ‘General comments’ on the different articles. Of particular interest to this study is a comment to Article 12 that refers to ‘participation’ as describing ‘… ongoing processes, which include information-sharing and dialogue between children and adults based on mutual respect, and in which children can learn how their views and those of adults are taken into account and shape the outcome of such processes’ (UN, 2009:3). As McMellon and Tisdall (2020) highlighted the General Comment goes to the heart of many challenges associated on the one hand, with respecting both the individual and collective best interests and protection of the child, and on the other hand, adults’ power to define children's maturity and competencies. Sports federations and clubs are legally obliged to heed the opinions of children up to 18 years, whether in relation to a decision concerning an individual child or to a policy affecting all young people, yet adults interpret the ‘due weight’ given to their viewpoints. In the name of protection and ideas about children ‘becoming’ competent, children can often experience forms of social exclusion (Reynaert et al., 2009). It appears, for example, that many adults are caught up in traditional ideas about incremental maturity and overlook research that reveals how even very young children have a capacity to express their views in everyday interactions if adults are willing to ‘translate’ freedom of expression in a range of ways. Several scholars document toddlers’ abilities for bodily expression or playful engagement in collaborative dialogue with adults if given the opportunities (Bae, 2010; Save the Children, 2011).

Current theoretical concerns about children's participation rights

From a theoretical position that rejects decontextualised, positivist notions of children's rights as objective standards regulated by law, scholars have illuminated how practices aiming to position children as co-citizens (read = ‘beings’ with rights cf. ‘becomings’) are saturated by power relations (Reynaert and Roose, 2017). Critical analyses have revealed limited, tokenistic involvement of some children whilst excluding other children, and consultation tends to be on trivial matters with little sustained involvement or dialogue, and repeatedly produces an essentialised, ‘mythical competent child’ (Bendo, 2019; Kjørholt, 2002; McMellon and Tisdall, 2020). A danger associated with ‘Truths’ that reify individualised, autonomous children is that the responsibility to exercise their rights lies with the children themselves and ignores socio-cultural relations (Reynaert et al., 2009). As Raby (2014) stated, ‘… it has been argued that children's participatory initiatives resonate with a neo-liberal economic and political context that prioritises western individualism and middle-class parenting, while ultimately fostering children's deeper subjugation through self-governance’ (p. 77). Indeed, Tisdall and Punch (2012) reminded us that agency per se is not necessarily a ‘good’ thing and can have negative consequences for those who use it. Agency is a matter of position and location within or in relation to particular discourses (Davies, 1990). It is contingent upon fluid contexts and from a social justice perspective, discourses of self-empowerment that mask structural inequalities and promote self-regulating children are clearly problematic (Raby, 2014).

Turning to studies in sport, similar concerns have been raised whereby it is argued that dominating cultural narratives of sport (e.g., the authority of the coach; the idea of ‘no pain, no gain’; the distribution of participants according to age, gender, ability; ‘winning at all costs’; a ‘right’ way to perform skills; a dominance of bio-behavioural and biophysical ways of knowing) can appear logical in terms of perfecting sports performances, yet in effect they can produce docile, self-regulating subjects integral to modern society's governmentality (Barker-Ruchti and Tinning, 2010; Markula and Pringle, 2006; Tinning, 2010). More specifically, in relation to the few existing studies of children's participation rights in sport, Everley (2022) contended that a taken-for-granted ‘preserving discourse’ in sport works to uphold adults’ power in decision-making and silences children's voices, simultaneously rendering them docile. Her analysis points to the ‘unthinkable’ of the idea of asking young people to express themselves because they are seen to lack the necessary understanding and due to a predisposed attitude that senior sports clubs’ members in the UK are automatically more knowledgeable due to age (ibid.).

In a Swedish study, Eliasson (2017) described how many children reproduce their subordination in relation to adult coaches, but her study interestingly offers glimpses of a disruptive discourse whereby some children voice a desire to be heard in formal settings, beyond the casual interaction between coach and athlete in training sessions. Generally speaking, however, coaches and children have little knowledge of the UNCRC or children's participation rights and coaches express doubts as to whether children are competent to express meaningful views and mention that time constraints hamper dialogue and can be detrimental to performance goals (Eliasson, 2017). In other words, a range of micro practices in sport discipline children into ‘knowing their place’ in the power-knowledge relations of sports clubs that rarely entails being ‘given a voice’ (Barker-Ruchti and Tinning, 2010; Danehar, Schirato and Webb 2000; Everley, 2022; Markula and Pringle, 2006). A recent critical discourse analysis of four decades of Norwegian sport policy on children's rights revealed that ideas about children's empowerment or right to be heard are marginal, implying that initiatives to consult children are more likely to stem from individual coaches’ personal pedagogies than from reflecting a broad policy strategy (Dowling, 2024). Indeed, despite traces of ‘Truths’ about the importance of mastery and play for nurturing lifelong enjoyment of sport for the very young (children's sports is defined from 6 to 12 years old in Norway), children's sport policies are dominated by discourses associated with the regulation of competition and sports’ ‘technologies of dominance’ (Barker-Ruchti and Tinning, 2010). Namely, values asserting the indisputable authority of the coach, the distribution of participants according to age and ability, progressively linear stages of learning, the repetition of skills, and increasing specialisation with little emphasis on children's voice (Dowling, 2024).

A critical narrative approach to children's rights

Following on from these findings that suggest a marginal status for children to exercise their rights, and an acknowledgement of a range of inequities in sport, I adopt a critical narrative approach to explore the multiple ways in which children's right to be heard is narrated (Dowling and Garrett, 2016). Narrative inquiry is founded upon the premise that narration is fundamental to human meaning-making (Barthes, 1977). Actors in sport make sense of who they are and their experiences via storytelling, drawing upon a multitude of available discourses. Narratives provide a structure to the multitude of fragmentary experiences that form lives in and beyond sports contexts for individuals and groups. Narratives can function to convey and reproduce privileged values/discourses, to persuade listeners to act in particular ways and to position people (Dowling, 2012). Narratives about the child's right to be heard draw inextricably upon biographical ‘small’ stories and societal ‘big’ stories, inevitably distributing power in the telling because differentially socially situated actors have different access to circulating discourses and knowledge (Phoenix, 2008). Hence, analyses of the stories being told and the ways in which they are consumed can reveal power relations being exercised between children, parents, club managers and coaches because how children's rights are narrated in either explicit ways or unconscious taken-for-granted ways (that is according to the unwritten ‘rules’ that guide social practices often obscuring their existence) shape practices for children in sport (Foucault 1972; Livholts and Tamboukou, 2015). Importantly, critical narrative inquiry recognises the potential for counter-narratives to challenge repressive tales and evoke social change when storylines are re-worked (Dowling and Garrett, 2016; Riessman, 2008).

Methodology

In order to explore how children's right to be heard in all matters that affect them is narrated in sport, I adopted a multi-method approach to generate rich data: observation, different forms of interviews and document analysis (Livholts and Tamboukou, 2015; Mason, 2018). I selected 2 case study sports clubs with contrasting social profiles and geographical locations in Southern Norway. Meadow Club has approximately 1600 members with mixed socio-economic status and Forest Club has 3900 members with middle to high socio-economic status.

Both clubs are situated in urban areas, are well established (with respectively c. 90 years’, and c.110 years’ history) and offer a range of sports activities, not least aimed at children (‘all sports’, football, handball, basketball, skiing disciplines). The voluntary, non-profit clubs are caught up in processes of professionalisation (e.g., education, documentation, the learning of ethics and societal values, and improved organisational structure) characterised by an increasing number of paid ‘expert’ coaches alongside volunteers, the establishment of academies for children/youth and the proliferation of online vision statements and policies (Seippel, 2019). Whilst both clubs collaborate with local municipalities, not least with regard to sharing facilities, Meadow Club has particularly close ties due to local policies for social inclusion. Following conversations with gatekeepers, I negotiated to be an observer in the clubs’ so-called ‘all sports’ sessions. In effect, the purposeful sample was defined as being children from the age of 3 to 8 years old, their parents, coaches and club officials. Whilst it would have been interesting to include older children in the study, this was not possible within the available resources, and I believe the cases nevertheless have provided some ‘thick descriptions’ and insights into the complexities of realising the ‘right to be heard’ (Geertz, 1973).

Meadow Club aims to provide children with ‘activity, fun and games’ in a low threshold, low-cost initiative (yearly membership fee of 40 Euro). The weekly 45-min sessions take place in a large modern sports hall divided into 4 zones by flexible panels. There are up to 70 children participating, organised into groups of a maximum of 20 children according to age (4–8 years). The club's record for the number of participants in a single week is 130 children, of which they are proud. Forest Club's ‘all sports’ sessions aim ‘to get children to be fond of sport and physical activity’. Approximately 300 children (3–6 years) are enrolled in the weekly 40-min sessions held in the club's sports hall or in local school gymnasia on 3 different evenings (6 groups per evening between 5–7 pm). The club operates waiting lists due to ‘all sports’’ popularity and the 195 Euro fee (plus yearly membership fee of 40 Euro) does not dampen this enthusiasm.

Consent was sought from parents/guardians, children, coaches/activity leaders and club managers following national and institutional guidelines on research, in particular with regard to research with children, prior to entering the field. I was acutely aware that the process of gaining children's consent could be described as tokenistic because the law requires parental consent for those under 16 years, but I nevertheless prioritised oral communication with the children and seeking their permission to watch them out of respect for them as experts of their life worlds (Richards et al., 2015). All participants and clubs have been given pseudonyms to ensure anonymity.

I spent approximately 6 months visiting each club. At Forest I observed 3 groups of 16 children (3–4 years, 4–5 years and 5–6 years old) and their parents (n = 48 children and 48 parents), and the coach (also responsible for Children's Rights in the club) on a weekly basis. I wrote detailed field notes from my observations and informal communications with the children, parents and coach (Mason, 2018). Towards the end of the period, I interviewed a strategic sample of participants: the coach, the club manager, 6 parents (3 mothers and 3 fathers) and had ‘draw and talk interviews’ with 8 children (4–5 years old). I utilised a semi-structured interview guide, digitally recorded the interviews, which on average lasted 25 min, with the exceptions of the coach, which lasted 70 min and the club manager, 60 min and transcribed the co-constructed narratives verbatim. A ‘draw and tell interview’ aims to create a child-centred space that provides children with a means for sharing their narratives together with the researcher (Søndergaard and Reventlow, 2019). I invited the children to draw about their experiences of ‘all sports’ or if they preferred, they could select pictures from a range of laminated illustrations depicting ‘all sports’ activities to narrate their worlds and I used their stories as a starting point from which to encourage words to fly about participation and the right to be heard. The children were able to keep the drawings after they were photographed. Parents were present with their children, some of whom assumed the role of a passive observer, whilst others were active contributors to the ongoing chatter.

At Meadow Club I observed a group of 4-year-olds and their parents who participated in ‘all sports’ (n = 20 children) on a weekly basis with a range of youth activity leaders. During the fieldwork I had many informal conversations with participants and made detailed field notes of my observations and reflections. After several months of observation I interviewed the club manager, the Children's Activity Leader/Coach, 5 youth activity leaders and 4 parents (2 mothers and 2 fathers) (interviews lasting between 25 and 80 min). I struggled however to recruit more parents and not least, children to ‘draw and talk’ interviews which I believe in part reflects the drop-in nature of the ‘all sports’ sessions. Although a core number of children attended regularly, there were often many ‘new’ faces that showed up. The latter was challenging with regard to continually needing to gain consent but also difficult to build trusting relationships from which to encourage people to give up their free time in order to talk to me.

With regard to the sample of documents, I downloaded each club's open access webpages that contain vision statements, club ‘handbooks’, coaching policy and development plans, information about sports activities, and rules/regulations. These documents have been systematically analysed together with my abundant field notes and the 29 interview transcriptions in light of the research question, ‘how is children's right to be heard in all matters that affect them narrated in sport’ and the theoretical perspectives discussed above. Following Foucault (1972) and Livholts and Tamboukou (2015), I critically engaged with the narrative data, reading and re-reading the texts and constantly checking the various ways in which stories about children as subjects, children's rights, and sports clubs are narrated. I paid close attention to the words, concepts, ideas and practices both in and beyond sports contexts that discursively construct children's subject positions. I asked: how are concepts brought together into coherent logics; how do they relate to broader fields of knowledge; how is power exercised, and by whom? The findings are presented and discussed below in ways that aim to persuade the reader of their theoretical and analytical plausibility (Smith, 2009), and not least, their usefulness for opening up different assemblages of ideas about children's right to be heard and possibilities for participation in sport (Raby, 2014).

Findings

Children's rights? … I’ve never really given them much thought!

The sentiment expressed above is typical for the overwhelming majority with whom I spoke. Narratives of children's rights in general and the right to be heard, in particular, are not well rehearsed. Forest Club has a 10-page document communicating a set of guidelines for members, parents and coaches about how ‘we do sport’ that refers explicitly to the Norwegian Confederation of Sports’ (NIF) children's rights policy documents, and Meadow Club has a sports plan for handball that mentions a vision of co-determination (a right to be heard) for children/youth players, yet, few people can narrate the substance of children's rights in sport including those who are actually named as responsible for promoting them. A dominating narrative is ‘everything we do in sports clubs is for the good of children’ and specific policy and concrete strategies remain in the background. Both clubs follow NIF's provision regarding the appointment of an adult responsible for providing information about children's rights and following them up in practice, yet only club administrators can name these people with any certainty and their role appears peripheral to actors in ‘all sports’.

Indeed, when I asked the participants (parents, coaches, children) to share their viewpoints about children's rights in sport, I regularly witnessed hesitation and a degree of discomfort, followed by over-enthusiastic claims about their importance. It is after all difficult to object to human rights, though children's rights are often seen as radical (Tisdall and Cuevas-Parra, 2022). Some parents are well versed in talking about children's rights at least in relation to their professional roles as teachers, lawyers, psychologists and physiotherapists, yet together with the majority of adults, their personal ‘small stories’ construct children's rights as a family matter and almost incongruent with the voluntary organisation of the fun world of sport. I interpret that a taken-for-granted discourse of ‘parents are keepers of their children's rights’ works to silence active engagement with sports’ rights policies. Leah (Mother, Forest) expressed, for example, the following regarding the right to be heard,

On the one hand, it's important that sport has adults who are seen as safe and communicate clear rules and set boundaries but if there's too much democracy it can get a bit difficult when it's parents who organise sports. …Sport's not regulated like other public spheres. I don’t mean you shouldn’t respect children's views … but it's extremely complex. … very dependent upon the context. Listening to children isn’t meant to leave everything up to them, they’re not mature enough to decide what's best. … Isak's just there to have fun with his friends and either me, or his Father, attend, too.

Leah upholds, therefore, the idea that sport is a social, fun activity and simultaneously draws attention to the balance between acknowledging children's evolving capacity and parents’ legal right to make decisions on behalf of their children and offer them protection (Bendo, 2019; Reynaert et al., 2009). Other parents, such as Gro (Mother, Forest) narrated a more conservative view of children as ‘incompetents’ and adults’ taken-for-granted ‘superior knowledge’ (Wyness 2018):

At a certain age children aren’t necessarily capable of knowing what's best for them … there's a difference between experiencing something as uncomfortable and boring, and lots of kids think things are boring from time to time…I don’t think a 4-year-old has a sufficiently developed brain to make the right decisions and we, the parents, have to make them.

Generally speaking, narratives of protection rights were more forthcoming than tales of the child's right to be heard. I observed little coach-led practice that could be characterised as child-centred pedagogy (e.g., problem-setting, peer-led tasks), inviting children to express a viewpoint or creating an environment for dialogical learning about sport and rights (Bae, 2010; Wenger, 1999). Gro's reference to development theories (read = neurological/cognitive development) above is in fact typical of the types of broader knowledge that narratives in sport tend to draw upon, and games/activities invariably position young children as passive recipients of expert knowledge founded upon age-related phases of development (e.g., Piaget's theory of cognitive development). Children seldom narrated stories about their rights per se but I witnessed actions and practices that can be interpreted as expressing their views and assuming a right to be heard in matters that concern them at ‘all sports’ that disrupted ideas of passive recipients. Below I illuminate these initial analyses in more detail.

How are children constructed at ‘all sports’?

In order to understand why certain narratives of children's rights are forthcoming, I have paid particular attention to analysing the potential subject positions that actors in the study construct for children. Following on from the quotations above, children are predominantly narrated as universally incompetent subjects, as ‘becomings’ and therefore, in need of protection, which is a discourse Wyness (2018) terms ‘conservative’. There are nevertheless competing stories like Leah's (above) that draw more upon ‘middle way’ ideas about the child, underscoring her/his integrity albeit within intergenerational relations (ibid.). Are (Father, Meadow) illustrates the ongoing narrative work of this middle position,

Children need to feel safe, that they feel they’re seen and heard … they can express their feelings openly, think whatever they want. … they’re learning to cope with feelings. … If Per loses concentration, runs over to another group, then it's important I intervene and find out why, if there's anything bothering him, is he thirsty, tired …my presence makes him feel safe and I can assist the young activity leaders, who have enough on their hands with the large numbers of kids.

Here we notice that Are invites his son to explain the reasons for his behaviour, offering Per the ‘right to be heard’ and an ethic of care (Raby 2014), but I interpret the possibility as somewhat fleeting because Are, similar to many parents/coaches, also believes it is important that children learn to ‘to concentrate’ and obey instructions from adults. Following Foucault (1972) and Markula and Pringle (2006), children learn to know themselves in relation to the so-called ‘dividing practices’ of sports’ social hierarchy.

Indeed, many parents and coaches construct ‘all sports’ as an arena in which adults have the power to decide over children, often displacing possibilities for intergenerational collaboration (Bae, 2010; Reynaert et al., 2009). Parents decide to enroll their children, once enrolled children rarely are offered the option of withdrawing from ‘all sports’ (though attendance at Meadow's low-threshold, low cost sessions were narrated as less rigid), and adult coaches decide the content and delivery of ‘all sports’ (though the youth activity leaders at Meadow are on average 16 years old and technically children themselves cf. UNCRC). Jon (Father, Meadow Club) said the following about his daughter,

I’ve tried to get her to take part on her own, but she prefers to cling to me and wants me to run around hand in hand. Unlike her friend, Anna, who happily runs off alone…So I have to work at motivating her, but I believe she thinks it's fun… I just want her to find an activity that she masters and likes. I think sport's a great place to be, it's fun and there are the social aspects. … and at ‘all sports’ you learn that you have to relate to others.

Both clubs stipulate the necessity for a parent/guardian to accompany the child attending ‘all sports’ with a tacit expectation of active support to both the child and the coach. The latter contributes to the idea that children are dependent incompetents and in need of parental control (Wyness, 2018). The seeming ‘disempowerment’ of children is legitimated by intersecting discourses such as ‘adults know best’, ‘children need to learn their place in organisations/society’, ‘sport for all’ provides a wonderful, fun-filled arena for learning life skills’ and ‘sport is an arena offering children a worthwhile pastime’. Some parents also narrated discourses of ‘safety and protection’ associated with their presence which I elaborate upon below. The comparative maturity of youth activity leaders positions them with authority in relation to the children, yet their status as minors re/produces age-based hierarchies of power in relation to adults (the Children's Activity Leader, parents, club manager) (Everley, 2022).

Despite common stories of children's universality (and by extension, parents’ universality), parents’ socio-economic and cultural differences lead to considerable variety in the significance of ‘all sports’ in children's lives. Working-class parents (including ethnic minority parents, newly arrived in Norway) were more likely to narrate stories about ‘all sports’ as the arena for physical activity, offering not only the child a place to let off steam and make new friends, but equally important as a social arena for parents’ networking. A Father who grew up in Afghanistan, confided to me at Meadow,

I’ve lost my job … it's very tough on all of us, not easy to find work, so … coming here (you see I have my wife and three kids), it gets us out of the flat, it's nice to see the kids having some fun… and we get to meet people, talk Farsi, share our frustrations. …I didn’t feel like coming out in the cold this evening but Azar knew her friends were coming, they talk about ‘all sports’ in the kindergarten, so here I am!

In contrast, middle-class parents at Meadow and Forest told stories of ‘all sports’ as being simply one among many arenas for the ‘concerted cultivation’ of their children's physical activity identities (Dowling, 2015; Lareau, 2003; Raby, 2014). Children are constructed as active subjects expected to perform at private swimming lessons, dance lessons, gymnastics classes, and not least assume families’ active lifestyle ‘habitus’ (e.g., cycling, hiking, skiing) in the local vicinity and often, too, at rurally, located second homes. The physically active child is considered to be a symbol of social status: sport is a worthwhile pastime, a signifier of good health and sound morals, and instills a good work ethic (Coakley, 2015). Petter asserted,

… you have to start exercising from an early age … there's too much sedentary behaviour … and as parents, we’re very concerned about our society's biggest experiment, digitalizing our kids’ lives, so we limit screen time, and ‘all sports’ offers a weekly activity. …We cycle, hike in the woods, and I have access to a gymnasium at work, so we use that too, inviting friends along. (Father, Forest)

The manager at Forest, Tore, narrated how children in care are inadvertently written out of ‘all sports’ because whilst it is possible to apply for means-tested economic support ‘… local authorities can’t afford and don’t have the staff available to accompany a child, which we unfortunately have to insist upon due to safety’. Further illustrating the diverse subject positions of children, Lotte (Mother, Meadow) narrates how her disabled son is heartfully welcomed at ‘all sports’ but is

…allowed from time to time get away with poor behaviour, though I try to intervene, follow up … because if I put my ‘teacher specs’ on, quite frankly, it should be organised such that they actually communicate with the children, not simply shout out instructions. Most of the kids don’t heed what's said. I don’t expect these youth leaders to understand his disability and he's having fun with his chums from the kindergarten, but if it doesn’t get better when he joins, for example, football next year, I’ll be one of those annoying, loud spoken Mums who complains and campaigns for inclusion!

In other words, children in sport are differentially positioned and opportunities ‘to be heard in all matters that concern them’ are complex, fluctuating, contingent narratives (Davies, 1990; Dowling, 2012).

Another significant storyline that emerged from my analysis is the positioning of children as ‘a good investment’. Similar to parents, club employees tell tales about children's sport that resonate with well-established, political narratives of the benefits of investing in ‘sport for all’ but also configure stories within current discourses of professionalisation in non-profit organisations (Seippel 2019). Tore (Club manager, Forest) stated that,

Children are an important source of income for many years to come … we need to get children/parents hooked via ‘all sports’. Personally, I think clubs provide the local community with an important meeting place … but we need help from parents to run the club despite employing more coaches today than ever before, so we need kids who bring their parents to the club.

Øyvind (Club manager, Meadow) narrated similar sentiments,

We’re forced to offer 8-year-olds an academy structure, otherwise we risk losing them to neighbouring clubs, even though I think sport at that age should be about participation not talent development. That's just how it is these days, like it or not. … as I’ve told you, we also have a social profile in our club, we try to include diverse groups and not least, keep youth out of criminal activity by offering them a place to belong and an enjoyable sport.

This changing backcloth for children's sports is well illustrated by Forest's coach/ adult responsible for children's rights, Heidi, whose career spanning 3 decades has morphed from 18 years as a volunteer Mother, alongside full-time secretarial work, to a 4-days-a-week full-time paid job. Reflecting upon the enormous interest in sport for the very young, she recounted,

It took no more than 1 minutes for 100 places to be booked for our ‘Sports School’ for 6- year-olds, causing our online system to glitch … and there's no shortage of 3-year-olds waiting to enroll in ‘all sports’. If we didn’t have such a shortage of facilities we could have far more than the 300 who’re enrolled today!

Children are positioned as pivotal to the clubs’ goals of ‘sport for all’: there is a genuine desire to offer quality, fun physical activity to children, yet in becoming participants children inadvertently are positioned as significant players in the marketisation and bureaucratisation of non-profit sports clubs (Kjørholt, 2002). The Norwegian Sports Confederation's (NIF) policy, ‘Children's Rights in Sports: The Provisions on Children's Sport’ (NIF, 2019) defines children's sport from the age of 6 years and upwards, yet grassroots’ practice appears to ignore ideas about a need to protect the very young in the name of clubs’ professionalisation.

How are participation rights constructed? Access to ‘sport for all’ and tokenistic dialogue

Turning to how narratives of participation are constructed in the data, stories about the right to participate in the sense of provision (access) are far more common than stories about participation as ‘the right to heard’. Discourses of protection are also more forthcoming, as this quotation illustrates:

…when you ask about children's right to be heard, I can’t really mention anything specific … but we do encourage our football coaches to ask children what they think of sessions, what might they like more of, that sort of thing. Is that what you mean? … We’ve done quite a bit on safeguarding, using NIF's/Save the Children's courses … we can’t be afraid to talk about abuse in sport. It can occur and we must do everything to prevent it from happening, continual preventive work. (Øyvind, Manager Meadow)

Many parents narrate how their presence at ‘all sports’ ensures their child's safety and offers protection, like Lotte (Mother, Meadow):

I wonder how long it’ll be before there's a serious accident on the bouncy mattress. I’m surprised there are no clear rules, limiting the number of kids etc. but I do my best to act as a spotter and push those who fall off back on the mattress! For me, children's rights are about inclusion and having fun, not focusing on competition, and so in that sense the mattress is very popular, including for my son.

While Lotte stresses playing down competition, many parents, coaches and club managers superimpose stories of having fun and play with more traditional ideas of competitive sport and narrate ‘all sports’ as ‘a gentle introduction to sport’. Structured, coach-led play is valued because children learn: ‘to fit into an activity that's not parent-led’; ‘to listen and obey instructions and rules’; ‘to stand in line and wait your turn’; ‘to learn the importance of practising things in order to improve … that making an effort is necessary and that things just don’t happen’; ‘being part of a team and aware of others’ needs’; ‘to take knocks and falls’; and ‘fair play, distinguishing right from wrong’. These quotations, drawn from many different interviews with parents at both clubs, represent well known tropes from ethical and political justifications for grassroots sport (Coakley, 2015) yet can be interpreted as technologies of domination whereby sports practices normalise children as docile, self-regulating subjects under the guise of play (Everley, 2022; Markula and Pringle, 2006).

Indeed, ‘innocent’ stories of play are woven easily together with discourses of competitive sport and performance. I observed on numerous occasions how warm-up games quickly transformed into quasi-competitions such as relay races and scaled down sports, like floorball, football or basketball were introduced to the children. At Meadow Club all sessions end by singing the club's chant: ‘We are red and black, we are difficult to beat, we are Meadow!’ ‘All sports’ offers young children a type of ‘Sport Light’ under the auspices of play and fun. Some children's behaviour challenges the disciplinary power of the coach (e.g., refusing to do what's asked; by shouting instead of listening) but parents frequently intervene to cajole the child to conformity (cf. Are's quotation above p. 14) reproducing the adult-child power hierarchy and silencing the ‘right to be heard’ (Everley, 2022). Other children clearly articulate an understanding of being in an insubordinate position. I asked, for example, about when children can make decisions about the play content at ‘all sports’, to which Håkon (4-years-old, Meadow) resolutely replied, ‘she (read = the coach) tells us what we have to do’, and similarly, Harald (4-year-old, Meadow) responded, ‘don’t be silly, it's Heidi who decides everything, not me!’ These children seemingly lack the discursive resources to be able to narrate a tale of ‘all sports’ as an arena for expressing an opinion or being taken seriously if they were to try, because the subject positions available to them are constructed as passive recipients of others’ objectives, cohering with Eliasson's (2017) and Everley's (2022) findings on participation rights.

I did however observe instances of children at both clubs being consulted on small details by coaches (e.g., whether to hop, skip or jump when traversing the sports hall, or to choose between two warm-up games), yet these ‘tokenist’ examples of co-determination did little to unsettle the dominant adult–child power relations positioning children as almost powerless (McMellon and Tisdall, 2020). Charlotte (youth activity leader, Meadow) divulged how difficult it is to ‘listen to everyone's wishes … try to please them all is impossible’ within the resources available. Indeed, Inger (Mother, Meadow) stated, ‘The idea of constantly swapping the Activity Leaders makes it impossible for them to take a child's perspective, as they don’t know their names and the kids don’t get to know them’. Attempts to improve coach education are hampered by the challenges of volunteerism and little monitoring/assessment (Donnelly and Kerr, 2023). Indeed, research within early childhood education illuminates how challenging it can be for teachers and kindergarten assistants to provide children with free play and opportunities for self-expression, as well as be willing to improvise and develop child-centred learning (Bae, 2010) so it is likely that these challenges are even greater within sports clubs that rely on volunteers and many coaches lack formal professional training. It is thus understandable that coaches and parents reproduce established ‘Truths’ in sport.

Other instances of ‘listening to children’ and giving their input due weight, were narrated when parents, for example, fear that a child's well-being (e.g., feeling exhausted, ill) might affect attendance at ‘all sports’ but these momentary stories do little to affect the dominant discourse of the parental right to decide upon their child's leisure activities. Glimpses of alternatives (e.g., playing in the garden, theatre, musical marching band) are brushed aside by the discursive work of ‘the good of sport’ (Coakley, 2015) and the idea of ‘finding the right sport’ compared to dropping out.

Ideas about the ‘right way to organise sports’ via sports’ technologies of dominance such as coach-led drills (Barker-Ruchti and Tinning, 2010; Markula and Pringle, 2006) also work to discursively obscure some children's attempts to assert themselves because having a curious attitude or exhibiting problem-solving can quickly be interpreted as ‘bad behaviour’. Heidi (coach at Forest) commented, for example, that Harald lacks concentration and ‘is all over the place’, whereas I observed, and was told in a ‘talk and draw’ interview with Harald (4 years old, Forest), that the child sought a solution to a perceived problem:

… those yellow things (it transpired he was referring to balance beams), they were too high so I just kept falling down. …I like the obstacle course but not those yellow things. I walk ‘round them. I like the small trampoline best, that's great fun!

Similarly, children conveyed to me that they enjoyed a one-off session of ‘free play’ on a range of equipment set up in the hall, though parents and the coach, Heidi (Forest), expressed that it was chaotic, confirming the need for instruction. I interpreted the session as a tokenistic, box-ticking exercise in offering play and an opportunity for child expression (perhaps inspired by the project and my presence in the club) because there was little to suggest an explicit pedagogical objective to empower or encourage ‘voice’. Indeed, dialogue at both clubs between adults and children on matters that affect them seems to be weighted in favour of adults and I observed few structures that aim to teach children about agency or possibilities for sharing power in sport, similar to practices in other institutions (McMellon and Tisdall, 2020). Knowledge from early childhood studies about very young children's capacities to express a view on activities that affect them when adults facilitate opportunities for assisting decision-making (Save the Children, 2011) is displaced by the story of the ‘incompetent child’. Creating collaborative intergenerational dialogues can challenge traditional adult-child relations that can feel threatening, not least, to adults and are therefore often overlooked or limited to ‘trivial’ decisions symbolizing tokenism as opposed to recognizing children's competency (Bae, 2010).

Inadvertently violating children's rights: Cracks in the façade of ‘sport for all’?

Acknowledging the inevitable contradictions of social realities, I now turn attention to whether, or not current sports practices can be understood as bordering on the violation of children's participation rights. Not only does the data analysis reveal cracks in the façade of the ‘Truth’ that ‘sport is a good place to be’ for young children but it also illuminates how the adults entrusted with their care seem somewhat hesitant or gloss over or play down problems to the possible detriment of children.

When prompted, parents from both clubs told tales that problematise children's participation in sport because youngsters are, for example, ‘too tired after kindergarten’, ‘too young to understand competition’, ‘too insecure to let go of my hand’ or simply are ‘lacking motivation’. Parents also raise concerns about some of the coaches’ ability to lead ‘all sports’: for example,

The young coaches check mobiles instead of following up children … and they don’t intervene when a kid hits another kid. (Father, Meadow)

Or as Petter (Father Forest) admitted,

It's a bit hectic, and they run their programme come what may. 40 minutes of ‘Pang!, Pang! Pang!’ and thanks for today, there's the door!

In truth, many parents express that some of the sports activities are not age-appropriate:

… they don’t seem to notice that most kids have climbed out of the mini football pitch and haven’t a clue about what they’re meant to do. … And you can’t expect them to throw and catch a handball, yet, even if it's a mini ball!. (Lotte, Mother Meadow)

Many parents also retold circulating ‘horror stories’ from their respective clubs (some experienced firsthand in relation to siblings not included in this sample) about over-enthusiastic parents’ disrespect for codes of conduct, children being overlooked by coaches in team sports, children confined to the reserve bench as punishment for missing training due to illness, and even about a father who arranged invitation-only, private training sessions for a selective group of the club's 8 year old footballers. Coaches and managers, on the other hand, are often construct parents as a two-edged sword: clubs need their volunteerism yet some parents are ‘crazy, talent-driven … who are difficult to tame’ (Tore, Manager Forest), ‘extremely demanding who forget that many coaches are volunteers’ (Anne, Children's Activity Leader Meadow) or ‘seemingly disinterested in their kids and more keen to check their mobiles or engage in social chit chat than assist me or the kids’ (Heidi, coach and adult responsible for children's rights, Forest). Yet, despite these genuine concerns, no one shared narratives that problematise, for example, the need for code of conducts for parents in children's sport that paradoxically position children as being in need of protection/safeguarding from the very adults who are entrusted with their care and rights. Nor did anyone talk about a need to work towards enhancing coaches’ qualifications so that they can better ‘listen to children’ nor question the inadvertent consequences of the marketisation of voluntary clubs that create a ‘pressure’ to offer toddlers organised sports. Rather a discourse of the status quo, or what Everley (2022) calls a ‘preserving discourse’, works instead to inhibit change.

The majority of parents feel their presence at ‘all sports’ ensures the protection of their offspring in a leisure activity that is primarily ‘a good thing’. Interestingly, few of them problematise their own role in the context of ‘all sports’, though Carl (Father, Forest) commented, ‘you must wonder why I outsource my son's play … but it's convenient when you’re both working parents and our winter climate is challenging’. Leah (Mother, Forest) also reflects upon her ambiguous role,

If it had been up to me, Isak wouldn’t have started going to ‘allsports’ for at least a year or two. He's still so young…and really, it's enough with going to the kindergarten and playing at home. But all the neighbours wanted to take their kids and I sort of thought, OK, where's the harm in it? It's only 40 minutes a week. …He was 3 years old, liked being with his friends and seemed to have fun… but if the coach is the ‘wrong’ person it could have a negative effect for years to come. Starting early can put the child in a vulnerable position. … Neither the parents nor the children really need this activity but there's this pressure to conform.

The latter begs the question why is there pressure to conform and whether it leads to violating young children's rights? Are parents caught up in late modernity's ‘social acceleration’ and endless pursuit of an assumed ‘good life’ (Rosa, 2020) that leads in this case to the realisation of an ‘uncontrollable’, ‘unnecessary’ ‘Sport Light’?

Concluding reflections and the possibilities for re-storying children's participation rights

I interpret that actors in this case study's sports clubs narrate children's participation rights as the provision of opportunities for physical activity that are enjoyable, fun and provide a foundation for future participation. Clubs organise ‘all sports’ and a host of sports for children to contribute to Norway's vision of ‘sport for all’ and parents make decisions on behalf of their offspring to enrol them in what they perceive as a meaningful pastime and socialisation arena (Coakley, 2015). A dominant club story is ‘children are at the heart of what we do’, yet paradoxically children's voices or discourses about the right to be heard appear to be somewhat marginal and tokenistic. Parents talk about ‘wanting to do the best for their child’ that entails making decisions about leisure activities and protection from any possible negative consequences of participation. There seems to be widespread consensus that adults know what is best for their young children, adults are primarily protectors rather than facilitators of children's right of expression in sport, and practices in sport consolidate the idea of parental/adult authority. Children are seldom constructed as respected stakeholders (McMellon and Tisdall, 2020) whose opinions are valued and sought in ‘all sports’ rather they are on the whole positioned as ‘incompetent becomings’ (Wyness, 2018), although it is important to recognise that a few parental stories challenge this ‘Truth’ and position children within intergenerational dialogical relations that show a willingness for consultation and mutual respect. Drawing upon the persuasive macro narrative of ‘sport is inclusive’ (Dowling, 2024) clubs’ narratives are characterised by collective storylines that tend to homogenise children and tone down social diversity whereas parents narrate personal stories of children in sport. From a Children's Rights Studies’, and a social justice perspective these dominant narratives of children in sport can work to displace the importance of children's right to be heard in all matters that affect them, marginalise the significance of children's rights (individual and collective rights) in the institution of sport, and potentially disempower youngsters. Most narrators are probably unaware of the power and possible consequences of these everyday ‘big’ and ‘small’ stories of children's sport but this does not lessen their impact (Dowling, 2012; Livholts and Tamboukou, 2015; Phoenix, 2008; Riessman, 2008).

Whilst the findings cohere with three decades of research on participation rights for children across institutions with regard to policy implementation (McMellon and Tisdall, 2020), there are significant discrepancies in the challenges therein. This study illuminates how children's right to be heard is not on the everyday agenda of sports clubs, rather than offering insights into how strategies to achieve the policy have been experienced. Similar to Eliasson's (2017) findings in Sweden, the Norwegian policy appears relatively unknown and tends to be linked to protection from serious harassment/abuse. Policy is of course important (Donnelly and Kerr, 2023), but it is noteworthy that participation rights are still relatively marginal given that NIF's child policy strategies were initially introduced in 1976 and have since been revised not least due to the UNCRC (Dowling, 2024; Skirstad, Waddington and Säfvenbom, 2012). Certainly, the youth activity leaders represent child actors with ‘voice’ reflecting ideas that a subject's evolving capacity is age-related (Save the Children, 2011), but ideas that all children have a capacity to be heard in matters that affect them are mostly absent. Furthermore, the youth activity leaders and adults position youth as subordinate in the adult-child power hierarchy undermining the power of youths’ ‘voice’. I conclude, therefore, that the institution of sport requires some substantial discursive reconfigurations in order to embrace narratives of children's ‘right to be heard’.

Scholars’ concerns about participation rights becoming a tool for fostering children's deeper subjugation through self-governance are clearly less relevant in their absence (Kjørholt, 2002; Raby, 2014). On the other hand, narratives about children in sport are troubling in a similar vein because they, too, are saturated by ‘technologies of dominance’ (Barker-Ruchti and Tinning, 2010; Markula and Pringle, 2006). Indeed, the practices of children's sports are mainly adaptations of adults’ and elites’ sports characterised by increasing competitiveness, seriousness of involvement and achievement-orientation and the erosion of ideas about pleasure and fun (Donnelly and Kerr, 2023; Elias and Dunning, 1986). The rich narratives of ‘Sport Light’ at Forest and Meadow clubs occasionally draw upon discourses of play but are commonly founded upon a ‘sporting ethos’ even for very young children; the coach/youth activity leaders instruct the children about what to do, albeit without little instruction on how to perform tasks on account of age-related expectations of in/competency, and parents generally reinforce the expectations to obey instructions. ‘All sports’ is constructed as a ‘natural’ first step on a progressive ladder of sports skills heavily informed by bio-behavioural knowledge and children learn to know their place in the ‘rules of the game’ (Danehar et al., 2000). In light of this, following Raby (2014), I argue that children in sport have an urgent need to learn how to participate in ‘games of power’ and require discursive spaces that facilitate expressing viewpoints rather than narratives that position children as docile recipients of adults’ life worlds.

Indeed, if potentially repressive narratives are to be transformed, actors in sports clubs need to consider how adult-child relations can be re-storyed in ways that position children as legitimate participants, who can expect to be consulted and provided with opportunities to challenge unfairness as agentic subjects (Davies, 1990; Raby, 2014). Coaches, parents and children alike need to think the ‘unthinkable’ including refuting ideas like ‘adults know best’ and not least, ask whether three-, four- and five-year olds belong in adult-organised sports structures if the best interests of the child are paramount. The narrative that Norway's children's sports policy is internationally ground-breaking in securing children's rights may be a ‘Truth’ (Donnelly and Kerr, 2023) yet its realisation, not least regard to participation rights, is still a narrative in the making assuming the insights from the case study are trustworthy and plausible. In keeping with the tenets of critical narrative inquiry, the insights from this analysis are inevitably local and contextual, but they can enrich international tales of children's participation rights both within sports clubs and research communities if they cohere with existing knowledge and are read as authentic narratives.