“So who are you going to vote for between McCain and Obama?” Katherine asks us.
I always try to be careful about dealing with ideology and my daughter. Yes, on the religious side of ideology, we all go to church and pray and all that — but whenever questions of other religions, denominations, faiths (or lack thereof) come up, I am always very careful not to say anything that assert without any more basis than my gut hunch that what I (or even “we”) believe is Obviously and Manifestly True, whilst those who think otherwise are Godless Heathen Destined to the Fiery Furnace Unless They Repent. “Some people,” I will say, “think X. Mommy and Daddy (or even just Daddy if it’s not something that the two of us agree on) believe Y. But what’s important is that you try to figure out the truth yourself.”
I labor under no illusions that Katherine is liable to set off on a bold course all her own, religiously or politically, at age 8. As I recall my own youth, my own political opinions were a direct reflection of what my parents believed (I could mimic their assertions as to the major presidential candidates to the letter, though I had no idea what I was talking about). Ditto for religion, which was even more of an unchallenged constant than politics. Listening to kids echoing political talking points to each other is both fascinating and sad, as it’s all right what they’ve been told, or heard, at home.
But that’s kids. Parents are all-wise (except where they aren’t in certain, oppressive ways), and so what they believe and articulate they do so as the Font of All Wisdom. Plus, parents are the only ones whose ideological beliefs, as adults, are actively and regularly to them, most often just as background dialog in the household.
So when Katherine asks us who we are voting for, the impulse to say, “Why, Barack Obama, of course, as any intelligent, compassionate, patriotic American would” is quickly forced down. I don’t want her taking my political opinions as some Absolute Received Truth. I’m not that egotistical … and she’s hardly a worthwhile rhetorical conquest. And if she were to just start echoing that statement, without comprehending and engaging with the reasons why, she’d be no more informed than too many of the electorate around us.
We were driving to karate when this came up, so Margie and I talked with her a bit about elections — and how you vote is actually a private thing, and not something you can insist on others telling you about (and why that’s a good thing). And, that said, we asked if she wanted to tell us how she would vote, and why. She opined she’d vote for Obama, because of the war and not wanting people to die. Which, as an eight-year-old, is at least as sophisticated a response as 85% of the populace (of either party).
So, since she’s told her choice, we told ours. We said (individually) we were both going to probably vote for Obama, but we wouldn’t know for certain until Election Day. But we could also respect people who disagreed with that choice, and that the important thing was not how Mommy and Daddy were going to vote, or who struck her as a nicer person or anything like that, but how she thought that a candidate would act as a leader, how he or she would make decisions and what sort of decisions they were likely to make, based on what they said and what they’d done in the past.
To be honest, it matters far less to me that Katherine grows up to believe exactly as I do, than that she believes based on her own reasoning and examination of the issues. She shouldn’t rely on us — or anyone else — to tell her where she should place her faith (political or otherwise), but on herself. Guided by my own sage counsel, perhaps, but ultimately taking responsibility to make a stand.
That would make me very happy about the job I’ve done as a parent.