On Being a Long-Distance Parent

The bulk of child development research claims that a parent needs to be present through the growth and development of a child. Children who don't have that connection end up with many risk factors, such as delinquency, intimacy and trust issues, instability, and a propensity for certain mental disorders. I won't dispute the research results, but I will point out one major bias in the results: The research framework is mono-normative (for more on mono-normativity, check out my other blog at http://non-monodiscourse.blogspot.com/). The results get boxed into normative ideas of family structure, with monogamy on one end and absenteeism/infidelity on the other. As much as more conservative elements would love to testify to the rightness of this structure, the reality is different, more nuanced. Family structure is a shifting, dynamic thing.

I am a long-distant parent. My year-and-a-half old daughter is on the other side of the country, being raised by my ex and her boyfriend. I do have contact with my daughter, weekly video conferencing and whatnot. It's been like this since last year, before my daughter's first birthday. I find it hard to delineate the bias advice of child development professionals from my personal feelings. I miss my daughter, and six months into her life I was torn out of it. I'm still suffering from that, and issues of injustice around it (see earlier posts in this blog). I think those feelings are getting mixed up with the common child development mantras, where a part of me says that I need to get my daughter back, so she can grow up with her father in her life.

Yet the validity of the arguments in that research are questionable at best, because of the bias. The cool rational part of me objects to the lack of study in unconventional parenting situations for children. The assumption is there's some sort of genetic connection between parent and child. My question is what validity is there in that assumption? Is it a culturally or biologically based connection? I would argue cultural.

So then, with my daughter being cared for by my ex and her boyfriend, who are (by and large) mimicking the traditional normative family (at least where my daughter is concerned) what does it matter how involved I am in her life? I don't believe by absence is harmful, so why do I need to capitulate to a confused jumble of emotion and bias reasoning?

Society would have me do that though. Norms are powerful, and many people capitulate to the 'rightness' of them.

So, what next then? It's always in the back of my mind, the invalidated normative reasons. Always something I can use, like some kind of NBC weapon, coming with it's own slew of ethical consequences for it's use. Is it a path I could ever take? Like our own government, detesting it's existence, yet holding on to it 'just in case.' Do I hold the same path, easing a part of my sub-consciousness by keeping a weapon in the closet I hope never to use, and would hate myself for using?

The ethicality of it is very grey, especially when my justice/vengeance feelings get mixed up in it. Clarity becomes challenging. Rationality almost impossible. Thankfully I have a very rational mind, that sees logic and reason as the foundation to my understandings, and builds feelings off of that (usually).

Being human is being imperfect, and I am indeed imperfect in how my emotions work. My reasoning is strong, but my emotions are flawed, as they should be.

On Ethics and Self-Interest

Welcome to the 'real world', where self-interest dominates. This makes sense as we are in an independent idealizing culture. Community is not recognized, empathy is pushed away, external responsibility is shunned. In contrast to tribal structures that honor the group, where the individual is not alone and is a part of a network.


Self-Interest rules in today's world because of our drive for independence. Independence is the refuting of connection between ourselves and others. It serves as an excuse to ignore the suffering and plight of others, to justify doing things that benefit ourselves at others expense. Independence is used in such a way that mimics fears about social Darwinism. Social Darwinism can be used to justify atrocities against others by dictating what their natural place is. It serves as a reason to turn a blind eye towards the homeless because it conjures up an excuse - that they evolved to be homeless and are a part of the social ecosystem as such. Independence suffers from the same folly in today's world.


Because of this, society has mandated laws that force the connections that we burn away. Yet the laws can only force the responsibility, and those laws are not case-sensitive. Laws reflect a more traditional normative on what is responsible behavior, regardless of the affected individuals views on the topic. In it's own way, laws serve to replace interdependent culture, by replacing the now missing responsibilities we used to hold to each other. Because of this, society is able to hold together and we can hold on to our delusions that independence is the penultimate achievement of the human condition. Through that hegemonic normative structure, we advantage self-interest, by creating structures, laws, beliefs and ideologies that advantage self-interest.


So, when society advantages self-interest, then what happens to the individual, or even the community's, ethical distinctions? Could it be that ethics takes the form of self-interest? That people begin to define their ethical parameters based on self-interest? I would argue yes. Consider how easy it is to relate to self-interest. It's easy to understand the reasons why someone would argue for a pay raise, especially in a recession. How is that anything but self-interest? We, as a society avoid making 'hard' choices because hard choices aren't self-interested choices.


What does that say about the ethical foundation of independence then? Oh sure people will talk about an ethic of compassion, of what is the most beneficial for the most people, etc etc. How often do people stick with it when their self-interest is threatened? Would you quit your job if it would save two others from loosing theirs?


More importantly, what does that say of those who choose to stand outside of the ethical norm of self-interest, those who live in active defiance of valuing their interests over others. We are punished, as the structures that exist are based on the self-interest norm, laws and social patterns are based on what is of personal benefit. Consider in my case with my divorce: I had the, proverbial, ammunition to cripple my ex, I could have gotten my daughter back and crippled her with support payments for the next 18 years. To do it I would have had to lie, and drudge up things out of context, and hurt one of my friends in the process. It was all possible, and it was the sensible thing to do, the legally viable thing to do. Society would have congratulated me for it, the legal system encouraged it.


Instead, since my ethics are not dictated by self-interest I took a different route, one of vulnerability. I showed trust and compassion. I had faith. Yet the system is what it is, and my ex decided on a self-interested path. She took my daughter from me and indentured me to her. I was punished for having an ethic that wasn't self-interest. I was socially chastised for taking the 'easy way', which I would argue any day about the 'ease' of my choice. Stories like mine are hardly uncommon in today's world. It's reflective of the punishment that individuals suffer when they aren't self-interested.


In a larger sense, however, it's appropriate. Those, like myself, that truly live beyond self-interest, welcome life's challenges. We aren't just looking for comfort and some illusion of security, we are looking for something beyond what we are told is right. In my case, I am looking for justice (hence my exploration of it). That I am not challenge-adverse is almost a metaphorical invitation for society to throw it's challenges at me. And boy how it does. Being polyamorous isn't enough, I also have to live my life from a different ethical standard too (-: In a way, though, these challenges have tested, tried, and molded me into a validation of my ethical disposition. I am not a self-interested individual, I have shown that through my actions, not just my words. My character is validated through the trials of my life.


It's not much, personal validation counts for little, but in a world that tries to disown you because you believe in different things than others do, it will have to suffice.

Why is Life so Hard?

“Why is life so hard?” I typed into Google this morning. I got a few interesting results, but regardless, the point was more about why I wanted to know the answer to that question. It’s not a hard one to answer, there’s answer’s aplenty out there, oodles to choose from, and one as good as another.

Perhaps that’s the problem though, because there are so many answers. Our society respects the legitimacy offered by the ‘one true answer’ (kind of like the one true god, Moses anyone? Or should I say Cylons?). Yet here we have a question that has a multitude of answers, human answers; A humanist’s proverbial orgy.

Do I need to find only one answer to that question? Is it important enough to ask again and again to find that answer? Does it even exist? Why am I not content with the answers I have? Perhaps a better question for that is why am I not content with the life I have? Even with all the crap I’ve been through, I do have a pretty good life. I have a reliable job (though a bit shaky at the moment, that will pass), a good living arrangement, great co-workers, a g/f, fierce intelligence, lots of capability, etc etc. What is it that’s not being satisfied by my current life?

I dream of graduate school, it consumes much of my spare thinking process. When I’m not focused on work or school or other crap that comes up in my life, it’s about graduate school. I peruse the websites for the schools I’m applying to and swoon, it feels wonderful to think of it. Lots of hard, intellectually demanding work with nothing to get in the way aside from what I put there. Nothing easy about it, I’ll need to do grunt work too, probably even more menial stuff than I do nowadays in some cases. Plus the hassles of still living a life in graduate school (I.E. dealing with possibly moving every year, eating enough, finding time to sleep, etc.). I’m looking forward to this.

What is it about this more demanding, less appreciated, less financially rewarding life is it that inspires me? I suppose it’s not about me when it comes down to it. That life gives me the chance to really do something to help a world full of people. My schooling ms my advocacy training. The end result will be me, but as a formidably powerful advocate for polyamorists.

Is that selflessness? Is that what it means to be selfless, to be so driven, so inspired, so motivated, not by a lifestyle, not by money (a master’s has a better $ return ratio), not by comfort, or anything else that would benefit me. I’m giving up the comfortable life here to pursue this. Is that selflessness? To give up one’s life in the service of others, willingly and gladly?

I wonder then, would selfishness be to give up one’s life for self interest, or to give up nothing to the service of others? Which occupies selfishness? Strange to define a concept so alien to me. It’s like jealousy. I can’t understand it. Both selfishness and jealousy make logical rational sense, but I don’t feel them, I’m not drawn to them, there’s nothing there to compel me to be either.

I guess, though, I’ve strayed from my original question. Why is life so hard?

Maybe it’s because I believe it is. But then again maybe, it’s because of all the other reasons, as well.

No absolutes with my thinking today (-:

An Analysis of Compensation

          In my previous writing I discovered that justice can include compensation, instead of just retribution. In knowing this, the edge of my emotional sledgehammer is dulled, a bit. Yet justice is still strong in me. It will accept compensation for what has happened, but not promises of future compensation. The justice I hold inside exists as a swift mechanism, it does not brook delay, as that adds to suffering and increases the level of compensation required to offset the injustice.

          So I look now at an assessment of what I have lost, and what I have gained, through this situation. Perhaps somewhere in all of this I can provide justice with *something*, even if badly insufficient, to compensate for the injustice here.

          In a physical sense, I have lost my wife and my daughter. I lost the image of the life I had, and my plans for the future. I have lost the opportunity to be a father and parent. The emotional toll has been excruciating as well. I lost trust in another human being, the emotional connection I have with my ex is now tainted so badly that I have to restrain myself from vomiting whenever I feel it. I lost a sense of purpose and direction; I lost a degree of self-respect. I lost dignity, despite how little I value my own dignity I still lost a great deal of it. I lost, oh how I lost, financially. I have a long-term financial restraint put on me for the next 17 years, indenturing me to my ex for that time. I lost a great sense of myself.

          What have I gained since? I have learned new methods of finding the love and compassion around me. I have a sense of community with fellow men, who have suffered through these things along with me. I have a girlfriend who admires the strength and resilience that I have. I have purpose, vision, a goal, a drive, and something to take pride in.

          It’s not enough to satisfy justice. As I realized in my previous writing, justice includes acknowledgement; a larger sense that an injustice has occurred; a degree of validation by a higher power. No validation has been received yet, and justice struggles with this. I can see myself as morally upstanding through this experience, yet that is not enough for justice. I can acknowledge what I have gained within myself, yet that is not enough. I can understand that this experience has grown me, improved me, refined me and bettered me, but justice still does not relent.

          It occurs to me that what justice is seeking is compassion. Not a compassion of words, but compassion of action; exampled by myself through my own choices, of risking myself for others because of compassion; compassion in actions. Much like the knight, I have risked myself, in action, to elate others, and when I am knocked down I am given words to rebuild myself on, justice tells me. Justice, by far, values actions over words.

          So then, what compensation will satisfy justice? Compassionate action in compensation for the injustice I have experienced. What would that look like? Unfortunately my speculation is limited to wanting things that are far too much to ask of anyone: Financial support, emotional and physical intimacy, encouragement towards my future. It’s a tremendous burden to ask of someone, to effectively carry me to the point where I can stand on my own two feet, and what I’ve lost here seems negligible. Asking for this feels sickening.

          Yet, justice wants what it wants. Justice is open to other ideas, but the rest of me is incapable of providing an answer for justice that is satisfactory. I suppose now it’s a matter of continuing to search within myself for acceptable compensation for what has happened.

          I suppose it’s a matter of wait-and-see. Do I have faith enough in all things that this injustice will be rectified? I truly do not know; having no specific divine entity that I can pray to, ask for guidance, forgiveness, or understanding, makes it hard. There is all things, and in a way, that is my idea of the divine. As it stands, I must put my faith in all things and believe that I am seen and heard, and treated with compassion.

I hope that is enough for justice.

Understanding Moral Outrage

          The qualitative experience of moral outrage is painful, like claws slowly ripping through my chest, at my heart, combined with a throbbing sensation in my brain. It’s an escalating sensation that amplifies with the more attention I give to it. The mental experience is more severe: I can almost hear a voice in my head screaming ‘Injustice!’ , demanding me to action. It’s an overwhelming voice, filling my mind with strategies, plans, tactics, methods, and so on. Even after I’m sick of looking at it it’s still screaming at me, filling my head with these thoughts.

          I call that voice justice.

          Is that truly justice? OED defines Justice in a few ways: 1) Just behavior or treatment. 2) The quality of being fair and reasonable. 3) The administration of the law or authority in maintaining this. In looking over these three definitions I can see them as separate parts, yet part of the same. The first describes external actions, and questions such as ‘Have I been treated justly?’. The second is more internally and motivationally driven, with questions such as ‘Was I being just in my decisions?’. The last is the balancing force, the scales of Libra, when things are not just, justice re-balances the scales.

          Then the question is, what is just? Again I go to the OED, and here’s what I find: 1) Based on or behaving according to what is morally right and fair. 2) (of treatment) deserved or appropriate in the circumstances. 3) (of an opinion or appraisal) Well founded; justifiable. So to lack justice is to lack moral rightness and fairness, to receive treatment that is not deserved or appropriate, and is not well founded. Is my internal cry of injustice indicative of these characteristics? I believe so. This is why I call that voice justice.

          Yet it is not justice alone, it is also vengeance. Again, OED: Punishment inflicted or retribution exacted for an injury or wrong. There is a social contrast between justice and vengeance, yet let’s spend a moment looking at the definitions side-by-side. I’ll use the third definition of justice as it seems to match the closest:

Justice: The administration of the law or authority in maintaining [justice].

Vengeance: Punishment inflicted or retribution exacted for an injury or wrong.

If to be treated unjustly is to be morally wronged, then it strikes me that Justice can be seen as an institution in righting those wrongs. What I can see here is justice can be punitive, which seems like a kind of vengeance; or it can be additive, which strikes me as being more akin to social welfare.

          In looking at the two definitions, it strikes me that they are like overlapping circles. Justice can be vengeance, and vengeance can be justice. It is not necessarily so, but they are not mutually exclusive, nor the black & white morality choices that mass society portrays them as.

          In understanding these distinctions I am able to better separate, within myself, the conflated justice and vengeance. I do this by asking that voice ‘would you be satisfied to receive compensation for the injustice that has been suffered here?’ Part of it says yes, as long as the compensation balanced out the level of injustice. Another part of me is still screaming at me, seeking retribution.

In having the word retribution come up, I go back to the OED: punishment that is considered to be morally right and fully deserved. This word occupies both the vengeance sphere, in being punitive, and the justice sphere, in being about moral correctness. I won’t claim that all cases that are just and vengeful are also retribution, but the correlation is ringing strongly with me.

So I question further with the voice that’s still screaming: ‘Would you be satisfied to punish in a morally correct way?’ And in a fury, the voice pronounces its agreement. Yet I find that without the backing of the purely justice driven side of me, this voice lacks the weight and character that defines me. If justice is indeed ‘just behavior or treatment’ which is ‘based on or behaving according to what is morally right and fair’ then is it morally right and fair to treat someone in a punitive manner because of the injustice I’ve suffered?

In even asking the question, justice (which I have now separated from vengeance) resounds a strong and hearty ‘NO!’ In the process of asking the question vengeance is also silenced, still raging, but silent about it.

Yet in this reflection, I now see an opening in my sense of justice, tracing back to my original question. I see a possibility of having my justice without punishing someone for it. Justice received as compensation, as a validation for my suffering, as an acknowledgement of the injustice I have suffered.

Justice as a gift to elate me.

As I think of this, I cry.

Reference - Oxford English Dictionary: http://oxforddictionaries.com/

Rainfall

And the heavens wept for the man;

Who in all his compassion, joy and love;

In all his honor, respect and dignity;

Was gives such sorrow;

Was given such sadness;

And the heavens wept.

Justice

I am a divorced father.

Like many divorced fathers my experience of divorce was emotionally traumatic and financially straining. Every father going through a divorce has a most challenging part of the process, and mine was accepting that my wife did not have my interests at heart.

I made many foolish decisions because I believed that she did, I didn’t contest the divorce, I didn’t hire an attorney. I trusted her, despite having my heart broken and my daughter taken from me. My commitment to the goodness of humanity is so powerful as to overwhelm my ability to make intelligent decisions.

The result is that my wife had a strong position in the divorce. I received little, and I gave much. Ironically this paralleled our marriage. In many ways I am now in indentured service to my wife for 18 years.

The true depth of my tragedy is not just in how my good will and charity were so badly misused and exploited; it is found in the system that allowed for my charity and good will to be exploited. In many ways I personified the ideal father and husband, even through divorce. I was compassionate and caring, I was respectful and accommodating, I was understanding. I took the hard road of maintaining my civility and respect through the process, despite the circumstances and emotional pain I felt.

My heart screams injustice: I was abandoned unilaterally. I was told that I wasn’t worth the effort. I had my daughter taken from me. And later on, I had my daughter used as a weapon against me. Yet the outside world tells me that I must be punished in the name of justice. This is a painful contrast for me to hold. In addition to the personal burden of the betrayal I suffered I am now indentured to the source of that suffering.

I have acted in the best ways that society has told me, and now society is telling me that I must pay a price for being noble, virtuous and compassionate. This is the system we today call justice. Is this truly just? If I cannot receive justice, if other men cannot receive justice, just so women can receive it, is this truly justice?

I will not shift the responsibility of my wife’s decisions and behavior away from her. She is responsible for what she has done. She alone will have to live with the pain, suffering, and injustice she has caused me. The system, however, will have to live with the responsibility of allowing her to be that injust, to me and many other men.

As a divorced father, society has asked us to take a terrible burden. Society has asked us to give up our right to justice so that women can have theirs. Is it just to be forced to staying in a relationship that you don’t want to be in? No. Is it just to indenture that person to you to get out of that relationship? No. Our society doesn’t allow for these injustices to both be addressed simultaneously. And through these injustices shapes the mold of what it is today to be a divorced father.

I am a divorced father.