My political and moral compass is, truth be told, somewhat cliche. Though I regularly attend a Quaker meeting, I consider myself to be the religious equivalent of an independent voter. Yet my moral compass and views about the world clearly have a strong basis in Christianity. Often times when people hear the words “Christian values,” they think of the issues traditionally associated with fundamentalists like abortion and same-sex marriage. However, there’s another set of values that is, I would argue, a better match to the lessons of the Bible: the Social Gospel. The Social Gospel movement focuses on Jesus’ teachings and actions helping the poor and the needy. It’s primary goals are ending poverty and hunger while providing services such as healthcare, daycare, and education for the lower class. To apply a label that some may be more familiar with, the Social Gospel is about social justice. The Social Gospel was alive and strong a few decades ago with notable leaders like Martin Luther King eloquently explaining its virtues. Since then, though, it has mostly been on the decline, but the last few years have seen the beginnings of a resurgence.

I don’t want to imply that my dad didn’t have a huge influence on the person I am today, but I think my mother and her side of the family, especially her mother, had the biggest impact on my values. My mom’s family are very active members of the United Methodist Church in Oklahoma. Her family has a long tradition of standing up for social justice and instilling those values in their children. One of the stories still told is how my great grandfather was the only white man in his small, pre-Depression Oklahoma town who refused to join the KKK. My grandmother spent her life working in her community to end poverty, hunger, and homelessness. She also worked with inmates at the local prison, helping to rehabilitate them and start them on the path to successfully rejoin society. These are just a few of the stories and people that made a big impression on me growing up.

As I mentioned, I don’t consider myself a Christian and I don’t believe that Jesus was any more the son of God than any other human being is. So my beliefs do not come from religious conviction; rather they come from the values instilled in me from a young age about how important it is for our society to be fair and just. Again, these beliefs clearly come from a religious source, but for me it is simply evident that we are all worse off when people our brothers and sisters don’t have enough money for food and are forced to live on the streets. It’s equally clear that we should all be ashamed when someone dies from a preventable illness because they didn’t have health insurance. Simply put, we are our brother’s keeper. We all have a responsibility to help everyone else, especially those in need. We must love each other unconditionally and as we wish to be loved, lending a helping hand to our fellow human beings when they fall.

The other part of my values is that belief is not enough and that action is required. This is tradition that is strong in the Social Gospel movement and is seen in many religions, including Quakers. Just believing that we should live in a just and equal society is not sufficient. Talking with others and sharing your convictions is a good start, but even that is not enough. Indeed, it is necessary to go out into your community and live your principles, helping to feed the hungry, find homes for the homeless, and eradicate poverty. There are many ways to do this, everything from volunteering in a soup kitchen to working to elect people who share these beliefs.

Not surprisingly, both my parents and most of my family on both sides are Democrats. I definitely identify myself as a Democrat, but I would say that the best categorization of my views is to say that I’m a progressive. I usually vote straight-party Democrats, but not because I blindly believe they are always correct, in fact I think they’re often wrong. However, historically and currently they are the party that most closely matches my progressive principles. They believe in worker’s rights and a more even distribution of wealth. They believe in providing social programs that help the needy by providing them with food and shelter. They believe that good health is a basic human right and that everyone should have access to a great education. That’s why they’ve won this progressive’s heart and mind and why I volunteer for them on a regular basis. I believe they will be the ones to accomplish the things I’ve laid out above and I believe that it is incumbent upon me and everyone else to work for the change they want to see in the world.

Thanks to all the Melonites who submitted pieces about personal political histories.  Another successful contributor series in the bag.

Here’s the recap:

My Progressive Principles by Walker Lindley

Permanent Link to Nurtured into Independence: An American Woman on Family and Politics by Glynnis Kirchmeier

So Whose Fault is it? by Chris Van Vechten

Conspiracy by Jen Drake

Learning Politics by Brandon Leuken

Politics: My Father and Myself by Matt Stevens

My family has a strong history of being involved in politics. My late grandfather was a journalist and wrote a series of newspaper articles with an obvious political agenda, like the need for conservation. For several years my grandmother worked for the Democratic Party at the North Dakota legislature, and since starting her own small business has drafted bills affecting her company and convinced legislators to pass them. I remember listening, wide-eyed and admiring, to her revel in a particularly sweet victory. She had swung a close vote in the House to her favor by going to the restaurant where the majority party (Republicans) met after-hours and forced them to talk to her about her bill before they could use the restrooms. It was particularly sweet because in passing her bill, she had thwarted a political nemesis as well. I remember talking to my father during the Dole/Clinton election and urging him to vote for Clinton, probably because my mother had off and on expressed disdain for Republicans. He listened to me, but refused to tell me who he voted for on principle, which was my first introduction to the importance of voter confidentiality. (I remember thinking, “What, he won’t tell me? I can’t do anything illegal with that information – I’m eight.”) When I was a bit older my mother would take me to political movies and rallies, like a gun-control rally at the Capitol.

Until I sat down to write this, I did not realize how much politics was a part of my childhood. I am sure my parents, especially my mother, had talks with me about politics, though I cannot remember particular conversations that created my liberal bias. Certainly I am liberal because my mother is. I think my father felt that political choices should be discussed as my sister and I grew older. It always seemed natural to think “liberal” things throughout my growing up, so my mother’s influence was probably conveyed to me not through any one conversation, but through many small comments.

My mother has a somewhat traditional take on politics: she is defined by a Democratic lean, though it is possible that a Republican could sway her if the conservatives made a strong case. As far as I can tell, she has a respect for other, non-Democratic liberals (much less so for conservatives, whom she rightly regards as supporting policies opposite to her values), but she doesn’t seem to be swayed into voting for third parties. She tends to trust that an idea in the Democratic platform will be sound, while Republicans have to prove that their ideas are better. My mother taught me that, above all, politics matters because the government acts out the social values of its members. She is the reason I tend to heavily weigh social issues over economic ones.

My father is a moderate now, but to define his political stance in the past is difficult, as he is somewhat of a moving target. Based upon the comments that both my parents made about him in the past, he was certainly more conservative when he was younger, and less thoughtful than he is now. As I have grown up and become more of his intellectual equal, he has delighted in talking to me about political issues. It seems that our conversations were/are partly a way to teach me about persuasive argument and critical thinking, and partly a way to supplement his ideas with my unique perspective. These conversations were crucial to the development of my thoughts on political debate: I see opposition for opposition’s sake as exhausting and counter-productive. My father taught me to seek understanding and respectful discourse even on passionate issues – which is partly why I am so taken aback when people show a willingness to close their ears and assume the worst about their opponents.

My stepmother and I have never discussed politics. Perhaps this is because throughout my childhood she had to walk the line between parental authority and domestic harmony, and because she knew that to argue with my mother’s opinions via me was a bad plan. My father reports that she is conservative, particularly Republican, but I do not know what that means for her.

Despite all this, I still see myself as a rather independent political being. I cannot explain my political opinions at all in the context of my parents. Take my feminism: like my liberalism, I cannot remember a time before I thought about gender roles and the fact that women clearly seemed to have a disadvantage. I am without a doubt the most radical member of my family on women’s rights, nearly entirely due to my own initiative. Certainly my mother has had feminist values most of her life; part of the reason my parents divorced was a fundamental disagreement about the gender roles and functions each of them played in the household. (This is not to imply that my father does not support a woman’s right to work and so forth, but I think that he is one of those folks who did not realize the extent of the limitations on women until he watched his daughters grow.) But I have since moved far beyond both my parents in the level of exploration and critical consideration of feminist thought.

Another characteristic of mine that seems to be fully self-formed is my commitment to civic engagement. My parents may have planted to seeds of it – voting is good, helping others is good – but I do not recall them discussing, say, the value of volunteering with me before I started doing it. One of the earliest things I did was to volunteer at a nursing home once a week, playing BINGO with the residents. While my parents lavished praise on me and made it clear how much they admired me for doing so, I don’t recall them suggesting that I start it. The impression that my ideas about how to be a good citizen are mine alone is reinforced by looking at my sister, who volunteers, but not at the level that I do. Based on her behavior, she seems to see community involvement as less inherently fun and worthwhile than I do. However, I cannot say what her opinions are on civic engagement, since that’s not something we often talk about.

So how much am I politically like my parents?

The best way to answer that is not by parsing out all the differences and similarities on issues (which I chalk up to personal style more than anything) but in the general ways I think. I have a bias toward liberals, like my mother, but before I vote I carefully consider how well each candidate represents me, as my moderate father would. Like my mother, I think certain issues like education reform and healthcare are incredibly important. But like my father, I think that considering what the role of government should be according to the Constitution is important as well. I think I’ve taken that a step farther, though, by also deeply caring about transparency; rather than the government watchdogs that declare everything is all right if taxes are low and government small, what is most important to me is the quality of the government, not the extent of its activities. Still, that we could agree on the same methods but have different policy stances indicates that there is a large degree of my own personality behind my political choices. And that independence, too, seems like something my parents have given me.

WHY I VOTE.

Voting.  We’re taught to view it as our civic duty, one of only three remaining “sacrifices” this country actually asks of its citizens (the first of the other two being to pay your taxes, which – I’m ashamed to say – a sizable percentage of this country cheats, and the second being to register for the selective service upon reaching age 18 – a sacrifice from which an entire sex is exempt.) So given how little modern American actually asks of us, it’s not surprising that the majority of us view voting as something like a chore.  In many ways I’m no different.  From age five onward, I was reminded every November that voting is just one of those things responsible people do; like saving 10% of every paycheck or never having sex without a condom.

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Ross Perot, the 68^th richest man in America, was duking it out with Clinton and Bush on TV in 1992, and ten year old me sat close to the TV monitor, watching carefully. Six hours away in St. Louis, the debate unfolded, with Perot airing a long dirty list of domestic gripes: the deficit, the economy, jobs, trade, and education reform.

My parents audibly gasped when it became Perot’s time to answer the Moderator’s question: “How do you respond to the President on the question of experience? He says that is what distinguishes him from the other two of you.” Perot responded:

Well, they’ve got a point. I don’t have any experience in running up a $4 trillion debt. (Laughter) I don’t have any experience in gridlock government where nobody takes responsibility for anything and everybody blames everybody else. I don’t have any experience in creating the worst public school system in the industrialized world, but I do have a lot of experience in getting things done. So, if we’re at a point in history where we want to stop talking about it and do it, I’ve got a lot of experience in figuring out how to solve problems, making the solutions work, and then moving on to the next one. I’ve got a lot of experience in not taking 10 years to solve a 10-minute problem. So, if it’s time for action, I think I have experience that counts. If there’s more time for gridlock and talk and finger pointing, I’m the wrong man (YouTube of the debate)

Perot’s answer, in my opinion, won him the debate. Sitting there with my parents, I felt proud to be an American. When it came time to vote, my parents drove the three miles to town to cast their votes: my Dad was a die-hard business Republican. My mom, an independent, was forced to register as a Republican in order to vote in our county. They both voted for Perot.

My Dad recently told me there are two divisions of Republicans: the crazy Religious Right, and then the Business Republicans. While he is a devoted and devout Christian, he refuses to vote on single moral issues, such as gays and lesbians or abortion. My family’s roots spawn from a church that started in 1800s America.  It has since then grown into a mega force for religious liberty throughout the nation, pushing that while they may disagree on religious grounds with many groups, they stand for freedom and equality (mainly because they are afraid of having their own freedoms taken away in a similar fashion.) So, most Seventh-Day Adventists are Business Republicans, not Religious Republicans.

Business Republicans stand for small businesses, throwing out invasive big government, tearing down regulations, fiscal responsibility, and instituting free trade and free market institutions. My Dad, however, was highly against Clinton’s NAFTA, and his utter dislike of Clinton persisted until he felt justified in his dislike with the Lewinsky scandal. When I asked him why he also hated Hillary “The Snake” Clinton, he never gave a clear cut answer, just going back to how much he disliked Billary’s 8-year term, and still feeling the prick of Perot losing the election.

The month of August 1992 horrified my family and I, when breaking news recorded the events of Ruby Ridge. Randy Weaver and his family were surrounded by federal agents for 12 days, in which his son and wife died. I sat, glued to ABC News during the ordeal, and afterward our community at large was horrified and angry at the government for such a violent exploitation of civil rights. Later, Weaver was acquitted of all charges except missing a court date and violating his bail conditions; he and his daughters won a lawsuit against the government where Randy received $100,000 for his “troubles,” while his daughters both received $1,000,000.

1993 became a pivotal moment for my family’s political culture, with the storming and burning of the Branch Dividian compound in Waco, Texas. David Koresh, a former member of the Seventh-Day Adventist Church who had long left the folds, died April 19, 1993 when the compound burned to the ground. I was helping an elderly friend fold and stuff leaflets as I watched the flames lick the sky and consume everything, wondering what in the world had gone wrong with our country when the ATF and FBI could dare do such a thing without proper due process of law, no matter how fanatical a sect might be.

After these two events occurred, it convinced my family that religious prophecy was about to be fulfilled, and the end of the world was gearing to occur. The culture in the South is more conducive to such beliefs, as conspiracy theories float around and the soon coming of Jesus is emphasized; and someone always knows someone who knows someone in some militia somewhere in the area. A neighbor told my Dad to teach me how to shoot to kill. Another Baptist neighbor told us about hearing new torture methods intended to use on Americans. Another Methodist neighbor told us he had his pack ready to run in case a Ruby Ridge happened to him. It scared us—all of us, to be surrounded by people who believed this. If it could happen in Idaho, my birthplace, then surely it could happen in Oklahoma. The Sheriff, a friend of my Dad’s, said the FBI was poking around our place, wondering what was in our barn (Emu incubators.) This scared us even more. Suddenly, we’d have low-flying black helicopters swooping over our barn at 1 or 2 in the morning.

I’ll never know what those occurrences were truly all about, but these events scared 12-year-old me. Randy Weaver’s son was about my age, and thinking about him being shot at from all sides made me cry. My parents voted for Bob Dole and Jack Kemp in 1996, but were soundly defeated by Clinton again. The fear grew. Rumors and whispers abounded in the area, such as some locals growing up with Clinton and saying he was a perpetual liar, you couldn’t trust him, or that martial law was being set up behind our backs. I watched and I listened and I was confused.

April 19, 1995 shook us yet again when breaking news told of the Oklahoma City Bombing, occurring just 3.5 hours away from where I lived. There were reports on the news that two bombs had gone off; later, the story changed to one. Some citizens came forward, saying they had been warned not to go to work that day. Rumors spread, and church people all over the area, Baptist, Presbyterian, Methodist, and the like all felt the need to pray, pray that the government wouldn’t come and get them next.

My parents breathed the conspiracy theories, taking it in like unseen smoke that propelled them into religious fervor, along with many other communities in the Bible Belt of America. It wasn’t until I left for California that I moved out of the conspiracy circles and away from the paralyzing fear that haunted us all.

In a odd twist of fate, it was yet another form of conspiracy, except this one based more on fact, that spurred me into political action. In 2004, I watched Fahrenheit 9/11 on the big screen, and as the tears rolled down my cheeks in sadness and anger, I walked out of there a die-hard Democrat, ready to throw out Bush and vote anyone else in. That “anyone BUT Bush” turned out to be lousy Kerry; while I was sad Bush was re-elected, I was also relieved that I didn’t have to take responsibility for electing Kerry into office.

Now, I feel confused, sad and hopeless at the situation our country faces. My parents keep emailing me conspiracy theories, and usually after glancing at the title, I delete them. My mom keeps begging me to move out into the country in case the world does blow up (Waco and Ruby Ridge both happened in the country, I remind her), and I keep arguing with her to think about the fear statements she makes that are based off of Bush’s Code Orange, Code Red, and Code Rainbow to cow people into submission. Somewhere in the depths I still believe in hope, along with my parents, but it is just a shred of hope, that America can change—NOT go back to life as normal, but actually change into something better.

The economic outlook is bleak despite the largest rise in the stock market yesterday, but we are still told by financial analysts to expect worse. I am not so militant that I claim one party over the other these days, but I am definitely not of Bush’s ideals, nor have I ever been. I was just shy of my 18^th birthday when Al Gore lost in 2000, and while family members celebrated W’s first victory, I sat silently, wondering what would happen next. I have worked on both sides of the political aisle, and I have taken the political tests that show me slightly on the liberal side of moderate. On my ballot I voted for both sides, and yet somehow I have this nagging fear that it won’t matter, since nothing much will change.

My political depression is definitely aligned with that of my parents and much of America, but I am still in the game, still connecting the line on my ballot, still hoping Obama’s promised change actually materializes.

So how am I like or not like my parents politically? I never was a Ron Paul supporter as they have been; I didn’t fall in love with Palin as my Dad did; we both get a kick out of Kucinich; I do share their same bleak outlook although I don’t think it is the dawn of the end like they do. I refuse to let the past democratic abuses by our government scare me.  Yet, at the end of the day, I want what they want. Peace. Stability. A house paid off. A degree that gets me a decent job. Good will established with our global neighbors. The war in Iraq to end. We may be voting opposite party tickets this campaign season, but we both truly hope that our candidates will bring the change that they promise to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue NW and the rest of America, and that there will be no more War on Terrorism, no more Ruby Ridges, no more OKC and NYC terrorist acts, no more anthrax and other chemical scares, and no more financial meltdowns, but rather peace.

Tranquility.

I don’t think of myself as a political person. I know political people – they work in Washington DC, and love to govern. They have been career student government representatives, they believe in the system. My friend Sam is political. He loves arguing, hob-nobbing, and legislating. He’s a rare creature that despite some close calls, has always managed to be a part of the political sphere.

I’m more of an idealist. The government takes taxes and turns them in to opportunities and services for the whole country. I accept this fact and move on. I have given much consideration to hot button issues like abortion, gay rights, our foreign policy, and our defense spending. When the time comes, I will vote upon these policies because I have been researching them, and been considering my options. I am an informed voter, or at least I like to think so. But am I a political person? I don’t believe myself to be.

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It is an interesting idea to ponder, the political differences between my parents and myself. As I think about this essay, I find it difficult to enumerate the exact stances that my mother holds, because I’ve never had a discussion only with her in regards to politics. My father and I often discuss politics, at length. He is a former State Rep, and is still very active in the political community of Northwest Iowa.

I became politically aware during his time in office, from 1999-2004. Though, as I have grown over the past ten years, my own political views have shifted at the same time that his have. My views shifted because I was suddenly exposed to a variety of thoughts and values that weren’t present in my home town. Okoboji, Iowa is very conservative: our Federal Representative is the infamous Steve King. It is a very rural community that is historically conservative. As I reread that sentence, I make it seem that my father’s ideas are provincial. In fact, they aren’t at all. He is in many ways much more cosmopolitan than myself.

However, Northwest Iowa could be considered provincial. As I moved to Tacoma for college, I moved very far Left on social issues, but at the same time I moved slightly to the Right on many economic issues. My father, at least, from our discussions has moved further to the Left, especially economically.

My economic views came about shifting to the Right when I came to the realization that markets do generally work better than government ownership and interference within the economy. I still believe this even with the economic issues we are seeing over the past months. Markets work better but they are not perfect. Market crashes and downturns still hurt millions of people. The biggest reason that markets don’t always work is that true perfect market economics demands perfect knowledge, which is impossible. It is the role of the government to limit crashes and ensure that downfalls are short. But government cannot create wealth across all economic spectrums the way that private enterprise can.

My father, over the same time period, has noticeably shifted to the Left. Advocating more government programs to help solve problems that the private sector isn’t. Particularly in terms of taxes, he has shifted much more to the Left than I have. Wishing for higher corporate income taxes and higher personal income taxes on the filthy rich. My argument against this is rather simple: that governments do have waste, and reducing waste by entrusting people with their own money is more efficient. However, I am much closer to Barack Obama’s tax plan than John McCain’s. Obama’s tax increases happen on individuals making more than 250k a year and everyone else’s will go down.

In terms of the foreign policy, we are very similar. We both believe that exiting Iraq in the quickest way possible is the best strategy. We both believe that the US needs to re-engage the world in international institutions, UN, WTO, and take a leadership stake in getting the world out of this current financial malaise. However, in terms of foreign policy, I am a much bigger fan international trade, lowering barriers to trade. I believe that international trade does help. However, we need to have retraining programs so that we can create new jobs after those are lost from international trade. He sees faults in international trade in that it destroys the manufacturing base in America.

When I left Okoboji, I did not have a clear opinion on how I viewed environmental degradation and global warming. I knew I was against global warming, but that I wasn’t sure how destructive humans were and what the steps we could take to solve the problems. I shifted significantly to the Left over the past six years, and that was because the people I was around were significantly more concerned with the environment. Organic foods were a joke in the Midwest. It was extremely difficult to produce food on mass without pesticides. No one in Okoboji was concerned with limited gas mileage, or the their carbon footprint or the gallons of water they consumed daily. My father has followed me along in the shift to the Left environmentally. We have a duty to protect this earth for the coming generations. I want my kids to be able to swim in West Lake Okoboji. We have to put in better safeguards so that their kids can as well.

The overall shift of myself to the Right economically but Left socially derives from my perception of what should be the role of government in an ideal society. In my ideal society, the government is there to ensure freedom. Freedom to do what one wants to do whether in terms of socially, or fiscally. My father still has a small part of him that wants to argue that the role of government is to ensure an ability, to create a meritocracy, where the elites (not in riches, but in skills) will rise to the top.