The Melon’s current discussion topic gives me a chance to write about Wendell Berry, an author I’ve loved for a while. Berry is a prolific non-fiction, short story, novel, and poetry writer, so I’m never sure how to discuss his various themes, but since The Melon wants different perspectives on the family, I’ll discuss Berry’s views, most with which I agree.

Of all the structures in society, the nuclear family is the one to which Berry thinks people owe the most responsibility. By default, average American adults must interact with at least a handful of structures: the government, their workplace, their local community, and their family (to name a few). An individual’s responsibilities to these groups inevitably, at some point, come into conflict with each another. “Fidelity” is the story in which Berry most clearly describes his view on the family as the paramount structure in society. In this story, Danny’s father, an old man named Burley, is in the hospital, in a coma. The hospital staff says he may still be cured, but Danny knows that Burley is old and dying and would want to die on his own land near his family. So Danny steals Burley from the hospital, takes him home, is with him when he dies, then buries him. The state puts a detective on the case who wants to find evidence of the “kidnapping,” so he can prosecute the family for acting against the hospital’s wishes. But Burley’s family and a few of his close friends confront the detective, and their comments make him question the legitimacy of his investigation. These two examples show the two different perspectives:

“And you, [Detective Bode], are here now to tell us that a person who is sick and unconscious, or even a person who is conscious and well, is ultimately a property of the organizations and the state. Aren’t you?”

“It wasn’t authorized. He asked nobody’s permission. He told nobody. He signed no papers. It was a crime. You can’t let people just walk around an do what they want to like that. He didn’t even pay the bill.”

“Some of us think people belong to each other and to God.”

In that scene, Berry poses a dilemma: To whom does an individual ultimately belong? To the government or to the people who love him? The characters who speak for Berry argue the later, although Bode does have a point that a family shouldn’t be able to get away with just anything, just because they’re family.

And later:

“A fellow would need [the hospital’s] permission to get in. If he needs their permission to get out, he’s in jail. Would you grant a proprietary right, or even a guardianship, to a hospital that you would not grant to a man’s own son? I would oppose that, whatever the law said.”

“Well, anyway,” Detective Bode said, “all I know is that the law has been broken, and I am here to serve the law.”

“But, my dear boy, you don’t eat or drink the law, or sit in its shade or warm yourself by it, or wear it, or have your being in it. The law exists only to serve.”

“Serve what?”

“Why, all the many things that are above it. Love.”

Every time I read this passage (I wish I could quote the whole thing), I have an aha moment. The law should not simply legislate indifferently, it should serve. The state deals indirectly, not directly, with eating and drinking and warming and clothing. The government, an abstract entity, should give deference to individuals. (More on that later.) This principle, as most principles, looks different in different situations, but I would rather the state be in allegiance to the family than the family be in allegiance to the state. (As a student of Russia, the Soviet structure comes to mind as a system in which the family had to make allegiance to the state their priority.)

Berry is not an anarchist; he is a tax-paying, voting citizen, active and vocal in his community and the nation, especially in matters of farming and food production (He’s had a large influence on the writer Michael Pollan). But he knows that the other societal structures exist only to serve the family, whereas many live, maybe unconsciously, that the family is secondary to their obligations to other groups in society.

Berry thinks government can hinder or break apart the family; he also thinks higher education can potentially have the same negative impact. When a young person leaves for college, she often breaks apart from her family and community, often never to return. Berry thinks colleges have become isolated centers of learning instead of entities which prepare locals to interact with their community, the initial impetus of many colleges.

In Berry’s novel, Hannah Coulter, an elderly Hannah laments that her two sons and a daughter are spread out across the country, and she attributes their location to her insistence that they pursue higher education. She then compares her and her husband’s attitude toward education to her neighbor family’s attitude:

A curious but often cited economic phenomenon is that among populations with high degrees of home ownership there is concurrently too often a high degree of unemployment and subsequent poverty.  This may seem paradoxical to many Americans who generally view home ownership not only as the ultimate fulfillment of the American dream but also as the bedrock of any sound financial portfolio; but when one considers that, generally speaking, a home ties its owner to his/her neighborhood, it becomes increasingly clear why high degrees of home-ownership often correspond with high degrees of unemployment.

When economic growth slows or declines in a particular region, homeowners are less able to seek employment elsewhere, and must therefore weather the economic changes whilst hoping for the best.  While it is true that outsourcing and the digital economy have already expanded the economic opportunities of both homeowners and renters alike, future developments are unlikely to overturn this historic economic trend.

We must then consider a second related phenomenon: the overwhelming majority of homeowners are families (including heterosexual/homosexual couples and single-parent households).  Historically familial formation was the only way minorities and women could ever even be considered as candidates for home-ownership – and even today it remains difficult for young female professionals to receive home loans without raising questions about whether their father or fiance needs to also sign the relevant paperwork.  Academics may deride this trend, but given the current financial crisis soberer economists would be more likely to consider the hard data.  Home-ownership is ultimately a question of whether the person seeking title to a home can generate the needed income to hold on to it.

This fact reveals yet another nasty truth – though the majority of middle-class western couples have generally married for love since the mid 19th Century – marriage and family itself remains fundamentally a contractual business arrangement.   Though we don’t like to say so openly and many of us may not even be conscious of this fact, it is our truth nonetheless as recent battles like Prop 8 in California can attest.  To make matters worse – (for single homeowners and unmarried couples alike) – the government actively promotes the practice of treating families like corporations by giving tax breaks to married couples and especially married couples with children (who, not surprisingly, are also the greatest consumers of our public resources – namely via the public school system).  In this, the government’s policies are no different than awarding tax breaks to the corporations which consume the greatest measure of what our society has to offer; and effectively send the message to citizens that the institution of marriage and family itself is somehow immobile and inflexible.   The truth, however, is anything but.

Initially families were probably formed less along blood lines in any literal sense but rather among individuals with a common set of beliefs and priorities and more urgently for common defense.  Home-ownership was probably the least of our ancestors’ concerns as they were most likely nomadic and cared more about about their territory than their tipi.  Eventually, most of our ancestors embraced the agricultural revolution and became sedentary beings.  It was then that we developed the concept of inheritance and consequently notions of marriage which, overtime, evolved into the institution we have today.  The primary reason for this was because without marriage, every child thought to be born to a particular father (or mother – in a few notable cultures) was entitled to either a share or, in primogenitor societies, all of the inheritance.  It was therefore necessary to exclude certain members of society who, though genetically family members, were not contractually so and as a result we have notions of out of wedlock conception today which are irrationally antiquated.  In many respects divorce is also a legacy of the contractual base which is the institution of marriage and the messy expensive process it entails suggests that perhaps it too is in some ways antiquated (or, at the very least, in serious need of reform).  Eventually notions of family and business became so entwined that children and wives effectively became the property of husbands, leading to polygamy in some societies and slavery in others.  Luckily, familial reform took shape and a more equitable balance of power-sharing and, dare I say, government regulation via child services and various legal mechanism, resulted in the more humane institution in place today.  But these facts should never be used to argue that the system we have in place today is by any means complete.

Being social creatures, humans will always need a social structure resembling that of family.  But for us to design an entire society around that social institution without leaving it room to evolve is a dangerous idea with potentially devastating economic ramifications (some of which we may already be witnessing in, for example, the current housing crisis).

The great question our generation will have to answer is whether family is the basis of society or whether it is, in fact, the other way around.

When you take a new job, and your boss introduces you to the company with a phrase like “We try to promote a family-like atmosphere here at Halliburton,” what is your initial thought?  For you, how is a family member acquired through marriage different from a member joined through birth?  To what degree do you communicate with your extended family?  Have you ever been to a family reunion?  Does a single-family household constitute a “family”?  Is an unwed couple cohabitating together whilst sharing the same cell-phone minutes through Verizon’s “family plan” a family?  Is a married gay couple with an adopted daughter a family? Can a group of friends living together call themselves a family?  The Cosbys were a family, but what about the cast of Friends?

The root of the word family is “familia” which implies “household” – thereby suggesting that a family requires a singular roof.  In ancient times this meant that anyone living under said roof was – legally if not literally – part of the family.  These included paid laborers, servants and slaves.  Such concepts of “family” persevered through the ages and across oceans.  Even after the American Revolution, great minds like Thomas Jefferson often referred to their slaves as their “children.” (Though in Jefferson’s case, this was sometimes literally true.)  One can only wonder if there remain any today who consider the family gardner, maid, nanny, chef etc. part of the family.

What about pets?  Are they family possessions or ultimately members in there own right?  What is the role of children in the making and sustaining of a family?  What about last names, the institution of marriage and the process of divorce?

Finally, are families good things, are they necessary, are they economically beneficial or destructive and will the concept of “family” be strengthened or dissolved by technological advances in this century?

These are only some of the many questions our writers will see to answer in our newest series, “Focus on the Family.”

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.