Added to the list of things that have shifted since becoming a father: I’m ready to say I’ve left my doctrinaire pacifism behind.
In October 2006, some thirty months ago, I wrote this post in the aftermath of the awful Amish school shooting. Here are two paragraphs from a childless man, excerpted from that post:
The third lie about pacifism is that it is hopelessly idealistic and has no efficacy. Once we convince our opponents that we aren’t cowards (after all, Christian pacifists are dying in places like Colombia and Iraq all the time), we usually get dismissed as “fanatics.” I mentioned in my post on Monday that I hoped that if it came to it, I would be willing to take a bullet for “my kids.” But I would not be willing to fire a bullet, even to protect the lives of my students or youth groupers. That always strikes folks as irresponsible and prideful; I seem to be putting my theological convictions ahead of my obligation to protect the lambs.
But as a Christian, I know that there is more to our story than our life on this earth. I love life, I love this planet, I love God’s incredible creation. But my story — our story — doesn’t end here. This is not my final home. I am a “resident alien” in a beautiful, violent, scary, wonderful place. I know that while death is overwhelming and terrifying, it is not the end. Not only do I have an even truer home elsewhere, so too do those lambs I am called to feed. They are Christ’s lambs, not mine. Their lives are precious, but so too are their eternal souls. Crazed gunmen can kill the bodies of the young and the innocent; crazed gunmen can break the hearts of a community. But crazed gunmen don’t get to write the final chapter of the story. After the tears, there will be rejoicing, no matter what, no matter what, no matter what.
I still stand by everything — save, of course, for the line that has been struck through. I don’t know if I would kill to protect my own life; I might not even kill to protect my wife or other family members. But I would kill without hesitation to protect the life of my daughter. Clichéd as it sounds, everything shifted the moment she was born. My first thought: “I have finally done something I can’t back out of.” My next few thoughts were of awe and love for her and for my wife. And then, later, gently but firmly, the realization that yes, I would kill to protect the life of this child.
Nearly forty years ago, the Mennonite theologian John Howard Yoder pointed out in What Would You Do? that there is almost always a third option between passive acquiescence and violence. In almost no other area of theological debate does the false dichotomy come up more often; the truth is, as Yoder points out in wonderful and reasonable and convincing detail, is that the choice between “killing or being killed” is far rarer than we imagine. Peace-making (from pax facere, the root of pacifism) is about the aggressive search for third options of the sort that maximize survival, maximize justice, and minimize bloodshed. I still think he’s right, but I know — as he knew — that there are still times and circumstances when there is no other third choice. And my preferred answer, for many years, is that I would trust God and place my faith in Him over my atavistic desire to kill in order to preserve my life or the life of another.
Though the story of Abraham and Isaac hardly seems as if it would illustrate a pacifist principle, it always seemed so to me — and to many of my fellow Anabaptists. The point of the tale is not that God is going to ask us to kill our kids; the point is that we must have a commitment higher than that of the life of our own offspring. It’s not that children aren’t valuable, or that they are expendable, it’s that God’s perfect justice, as incomprehensible as it may seem to us, is greater even than the love of parent for child. Just as Abraham took a huge leap of faith as he held the knife over Isaac, we who are pacifists must take a huge leap of faith when we do not pick up a knife or a gun to protect our loved ones. In both cases, the certainty that God is in charge trumps our most basic instincts. And while in the hands of religious zealots, the willingness to kill for God turns monstrous, it always seemed to me that the willingness to offer up one’s life or the life of one’s child rather than to use violence was a particular expression of holiness. His thoughts are not my thoughts, His ways are not my ways, our Lamb has already conquered death and all we must do is trust and follow… and so on.
My friends, Christian and non-Christian alike, pointed out with varying degrees of charity that these were the musings of a childless man who could outsource his violence to a reliable local police department! How, um, humbling to discover that my friends were right.
Me and Jesus, we still have our thing going on. This week more than any other week of the year, I hear His call. This week, more than any other week, I am reminded how much I am like Peter (surely a fellow ENFP) — boisterous, impetuous, prone to grandiosity and generosity in equal measure. Prone to cowardice, betrayal, and remorse. A lot of us love Peter, and we think we know why he, of all the apostles, ends up being the rock upon which the church will be built. It is Christ’s lines to Peter in the final chapter of the last gospel that have been with me since my conversion, ringing in my head:
When they had finished eating, Jesus said to Simon Peter, “Simon son of John, do you truly love me more than these?”
“Yes, Lord,” he said, “you know that I love you.”
Jesus said, “Feed my lambs.”
Again Jesus said, “Simon son of John, do you truly love me?”
He answered, “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.”
Jesus said, “Take care of my sheep.”
The third time he said to him, “Simon son of John, do you love me?”
Peter was hurt because Jesus asked him the third time, “Do you love me?” He said, “Lord, you know all things; you know that I love you.”
Jesus said, “Feed my sheep. I tell you the truth, when you were younger you dressed yourself and went where you wanted; but when you are old you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will dress you and lead you where you do not want to go.” Jesus said this to indicate the kind of death by which Peter would glorify God. Then he said to him, “Follow me!”
Though I am no saint, I took seriously His command to “feed my lambs”. I did it and do it as best I can in my teaching and volunteering. And though, as I said in my 2006 post, I would lay down my life for others (or so I imagine), I also was fairly clear that I wouldn’t kill for them. Perhaps that was faith, perhaps self-flattering fantasy tinged with unattractively juvenile thoughts of martyrdom. But all that is gone. Something has shifted as someone has come into my life. Yes, Heloise belongs to God first, not to her mother and me. And in time, she will also belong to herself. But for now, we are her guardians in her perfect helplessness. And though I know that prayers and love are the chief weapons in my arsenal as her guardian, I also know that sometimes those alone are not enough. I have no intention of buying weapons, mind you. But I also know with absolute and total certainty that I would do anything, anything, anything, for Heloise. And though this will, God willing, remain entirely theoretical, there is no question in my mind that should lethal force be at my disposal and seem necessary for her protection, I would use it.
I change my mind less frequently than I used to. But I am still open to change, and when I have gone on record with one set of views — and then come to repudiate those views because of a new insight or experience — I am not ashamed to say that I was wrong. And when I said I wouldn’t shed blood to protect the vulnerable, I was wrong. Whether I was wrong theologically is a question for Anabaptists and Just War theorists to debate — but that I was wrong in terms of knowing my own heart, of that there is no question.
So, Hugo.
You’re coming late to a normal human position.
So what do you think of those of us who already were there?
Something still amiss with us?
BTW. Does your wife know she’s on her own if the stuff hits the fan?
Only fair to tell her, although a bit late.
Great post, Hugo!
(Totally off-topic: I’m now blogging solo at a new space; Our Descent has been laid to rest. I only have one proper post up so far, but I hope you’ll stop by!)
Hurrah for the new blog, Daisy; I will visit and link!
Richard, I think that plenty of folks in the pacifist tradition (which considerably predates the Constantinian Compromise) are quite “normal humans.”
And dude, my wife reads my blog. She gets behind, mind you, but she does have at least some interest in what her husband has to say. She and I know each other’s views very well, and frequently and cheerfully disagree.
Re: Richard, I think that plenty of folks in the pacifist tradition (which considerably predates the Constantinian Compromise) are quite “normal humans.”
Yes, Hugo, they were. Many of them, however, were also (celibate) priests and monks without children of their own, which as you note, tends to change one’s views about the world.
I’ve always found the Abraham and Isaac story chilling and more liable to drive people away from Christianity than inspire them to faith (albeit not as awful as Moses and Pharaoh). But if we accept its message of unquestioning faith, I don’t see why that would entail pacifism, or even violence-only-as-a-last-resort-ism. Because just as you could say “I don’t see why I can’t use violence, but I’ll trust God to make things work out according to his plan,” you could equally say “I don’t see why I have to indiscriminately use violence, but I’ll trust God to make things work out according to his plan.” Indeed, considering the number of people who God has explicitly ordered his followers to kill, one could be forgiven for finding the latter *more* plausible.
“BTW. Does your wife know she’s on her own if the stuff hits the fan?
Only fair to tell her, although a bit late.”
I’m sorry, but this remark strikes me as, at the minimum, snarky bad taste. Of course Hugo’s wife knew him and his principles well before she married him–can anyone here imagine Hugo not speaking his mind passionately about his principles to someone he’s trying to connect with..? (I can’t. But then, I don’t know him in real life. That’s just how he comes over on the blog. :) ) Pacifism is the kind of principle that you either admire or sneer at, and clearly, if she was in the latter category, she’d never have married him. Outside of those two, generally, Richard, at least in the US, women tend not to marry men in order to be protected by them from physical attack from outsiders. As a matter of fact, a woman here is much more likely to be physically attacked by her husband than by any stranger, statistically speaking, so that would be the height of Teh Stupid, wouldn’t it? And I also can’t imagine Hugo marrying a stupid woman, can you?
So you held a position which you believed grounded in reason.
Then you experienced a feeling.
Now you no longer adhere to the position.
I’m not sure that bolsters the credibility of your remaining arguments.
…but, congratulations on clearing this particular mote in your eye, anyway. :P
Lisa,
Hugo, by his own admission, had a checkered early life.
It appears he’s projecting his own problems on the rest of us men in order to have been “bad, but not all that bad, not worse than those other guys to whom I am now immensely superior”.
He’s wrong.
I don’t know that women marry to be protected, but I don’t know they marry in the full knowledge they’d on their own, either. And I would be interested if Hugo explained the difference to his wife about protecting their kid(s) if any, but not her during their discussions prior to marriage.
I have visited violence on others on behalf of strangers. Not exactly, because when I got involved the perps wouldn’t fight me, so it was more of a threat. None of the strangers objected afterwards. Maybe they need to talk to Hugo, ya think?
And, as I said in another post, you don’t need protection if you live in a protected world. Except if the protection breaks down, either because society reverts to its historical norm, or you have an individual spot of bad luck.
But in the meantime you can pretend the protected world is the norm and can’t possibly be otherwise. You can, if forced to, treat the protectors as if, as I said earlier, they were the shabbat goy, or perhaps a cross between a guard dog and a plow horse. Doesn’t change the fact that things aren’t always congenial.
“Normal”, having two meanings. One is statistical, a generally accepted definition. The other is that it is not normal to go out of your way to remove yourself and your family from the gene pool, evolutionarily speaking. Not to mention leaving the field to the worst among us.
And can you imagine Hugo wanting to be “normal” in any sense at all?
And, yeah, Lisa, I know men, especially husbands, are lower than whale excrement.
Hi Richard,
I’m working, so I don’t have time this second to get to the rest of your post, which is going to require some analysis before it makes enough sense to me to respond to, but I think I can hit your last statement there.
I’m sorry you think that the fact that, statistically speaking, a US woman is more likely to experience violence at the hands of her husband than at the hands of a total stranger means that men, and especially husbands, are lower than whale excrement. Actually, I think that’s a pretty weird comparison, as well as being an inaccurate one…whale excrement? That’s the first thing that springs to mind..?
But, I have to say, that I don’t think that men in general or husbands in general are, as a group, lower than excrement of any description.
Hugo, your blog has elicited quite a bit of affection in me for you, though I don’t know you. I myself am 13 weeks into fatherhood, but I differ from you in that I weighed pacifism (read here “the absolute unwillingness to kill”) some time ago and found it very, very morally wanting. Pacifists who give up their own lives are perfectly within their rights, I think; but pacifists who fail to protect the lives of others aren’t doing anybody any moral favors — neither to the aggressors, nor the victims, nor any observers. (Accelerated promotion to “pie in the sky when you die” doesn’t count as a favor in my personal moral calculus.)
Richard comes across as a bit more caustic than he perhaps realizes, but he makes a point I was just mentioning to my wife the other day: that pacifism is made possible by being embedded in a society that will use violence to protect its members’ lives. The Amish, for example, get to do their thing because they’re located here. If they were located in any of a vast range of times and places, they’s just get wiped out.
Welcome to dadhood, dude. I wish you all the best as you continue developing yourself and as you very courageously talk about that development on your blog.
I think your position is very reasonable Hugo, and as a Dad myself I can certainly understand it.
And I don’t think it violates pacifism either. You can be a good pacifist and be against war. You can be a good pacifist and abjure personal self-defense. I see no contradiction between those admirable positions and the willingness to use lethal means as a last resort to protect the life of your child.
So how long before Hugo buys an SUV because they’re safer for The Children? (I joke, I joke… sort of.)
Hugo, I hope that Robert’s criticism above spurs you to reflect on the implications of the process by which you came to your new position, and what this shift reveals about the nature of human violence (or evil, if you prefer).
I am not a principled pacifist. But I also don’t claim to be a Christian, or in fact to live by any particular set of principles. And I try to keep in mind that defending the use of violence to protect the powerless and innocent is identical to the rationale used by the perpetrators of, e.g., America’s brutal campaigns against “terrorists” and “communists” threatening Our Children: Iraq, Afghanistan, Guantanamo, Vietnam, Argentina, Chile, El Salvador, etc.
We are savage apes, built for the sole purpose of building and launching vessels for our genetic material. We are programmed to put nothing — not morality, or law, or reason, or compassion — above the protection of these vessels. So, yes, your new position is perfectly human. I hope that, as a rational being and professed Christian, that fact is immensely troubling, rather than comforting, to you. (I come with a sword, I will part father from son, etc.)
I do hope that you take Robert’s criticism as an opportunity for self-examination, and that your humility on this point is genuine and enduring. While I really enjoy the honesty of your writing, you have a troubling tendency toward sanctimony (especially when distinguishing yourself from How You Used To Be), and it would be tragic to see you slip from slightly self-righteous Leftist feminism/environmentalism/pacifism into the kind of What About The Children hysteria that has infected so much of our discourse.
(Sorry if this comes off as hostile or smug. The fact is that I share your turmoil over this issue, despite having no children, and I suppose I’d like to have you thinking and writing about it rather than having to do all the meditation myself.)
Hello, Hugo!
I just wanted to let you know that I checked out your blog for the first time today for an assignment for my Women, Gender & Diversity class; I absolutely loved it! I will continue reading in the future. Can’t wait to hear more thought-provoking updates from you! Thanks for spurring on the mini activist inside me. :)
Picador, I assure you — and everyone else — that my nascent willingness to consider the use of private violence to protect my daughter is not going to somehow morph into a larger commitment to see the state wield violence indiscriminately.
And I ain’t playing that “what about the children” game, for sure.
I’ve moved from Yoder to Niebuhr on the theological spectrum. And still very much committed to justice.
Yes, that would explain abuse and killing of children by their parents.
Hugo, it’s amazing how parenthood changes us.
I don’t really have anything to add to the discussion about pacifism. I’m not particularly disposed toward violence at all, but I also have no doubt in my mind that I’d employ it if necessary to protect my children (also husband, parents, and sisters, but they’re more able to take care of themselves than my kids are). It really is amazing how parenthood changes us.
But I do want to say that I find it interesting that you’d bring up the story about Abraham and Isaac to illustrate your point. Because I agree with Stentor in that I always found that to be one of the more chilling stories in the Bible. In fact, that particular story was one of the first that actually did begin to drive me away from Christianity and to my absolute conviction that if the God of the Bible does exist (and I’m not by any means conviced that this is so–I tend to lean more atheist these days), then he’s a huge asshole and I wouldn’t want to have anything to do with him anyway.
Re: And I try to keep in mind that defending the use of violence to protect the powerless and innocent is identical to the rationale used by the perpetrators of, e.g., America’s brutal campaigns against “terrorists” and “communists” threatening Our Children: Iraq, Afghanistan, Guantanamo, Vietnam, Argentina, Chile, El Salvador, etc.
That’s really dumb.
Picador,
That’s really silly. So because someone has claimed (falsely) to be protecting the innocent in the past, no one can make that claim legitimately now?
Moral reasoning about violence consists precisely in making judicious decisions about when it is justified, how much, for what purposes, and against whom.
Re: I’ve always found the Abraham and Isaac story chilling and more liable to drive people away from Christianity than inspire them to faith (albeit not as awful as Moses and Pharaoh).
Stentor,
I’ve never been a super-duper fan of the Old Testament, but nor do I find this story particularly chilling. For a Christian, its purpose is fairly clear: it is a figure and prophecy of Christ. (Down to the detail that, I’ve been told, Mount Moriah was the same as the Place of the Skull). The Old Testament is full of stories that don’t really make sense, at least to me, except in light of Christ. Parenthetically, it also foreshadows the long war that the Jews would fight against the followers of Molech, and against the cult of child sacrifice to Molech that was rampant among ancient Canaanite and Phoenician (and later, Carthaginian) religion.
I find it mind boggling that you’re so comfortable with Abraham’s willingness to kill his son at God’s command. I don’t understand how you can see a willingness to murder out of blind faith as a positive thing, yet disdain violence used to defend other people. I imagine those monstrous religious zealots you mention see themselves as faithful followers of God’s will too.
I guess my trouble with this is due to my inability to understand how anyone can believe in something so strongly. I’m not sure I’d gamble my family’s existence on the fact that the world is round and orbiting the sun, let alone leave their fate up to a God who may or may not exist.
I’m curious how you feel about the killing God supposedly ordered in the Old Testament. Particularly the slaughter of Canaanite men women and children who were just in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong beliefs.
Frankly I’ve always found the attitude towards this kind of thing from many Christians, including people like yourself who I consider to be decent and moral, to be utterly shocking. For example, a Christian friend pointed me towards an article by William Lane Craig, where it’s basically argued that any enemies of God have it coming and deserve no sympathy, and instead we should be more concerned with their killers:
“Ironically, I think the most difficult part of this whole debate is the apparent wrong done to the Israeli soldiers themselves. Can you imagine what it would be like to have to break into some house and kill a terrified woman and her children? The brutalizing effect on these Israeli soldiers is disturbing.” -from http://www.reasonablefaith.org/site/News2?page=NewsArticle&id=5767
Is absolutely anything perfectly OK as long as you believe it to fit God’s incomprehensible yet perfect justice?
That seems like the basis of a very arbitrary and subjective morality. I certainly struggle to see how that fits comfortably with your extremely strong pacifism.
Sorry for going so far off topic here, but I find this all so confusing.
Of course much of the Old Testament doesn’t make sense to Christians; it’s a Jewish religious and historical text. It’s like trying to watch a regular movie through 3D glasses.
Mythago,
I didn’t say that it made no sense to me….I said it makes sense as a type and prophecy of Christ. The story of Abraham’s [abortive] blood sacrifice of his son is a prophecy, a shadow; the substance is the real sacrifice of Christ. Just as with Jonah- I don’t think Jonah was really swallowed by a big fish, I think God gave us that story to prophecy and foretell the three days that Christ would spend among the dead. Jonah is the shadow; Christ is the substance.
I’m sure the Jews have another interpretation- this is the Christian one (or at least, _a_ Christian one) and it makes sense to me. Typological interpretation makes sense to me in general.
Okay, the rest of Richard’s response to me…
Does this have anything to do with either Hugo’s post or my comment? Because I’m not seeing the connection.
Richard, I think you’re confusing “not kill somebody dead to save somebody else” with “leaving somebody else entirely on her own.” For instance, Hugo has stated he’d take a bullet for her. Pacifism doesn’t preclude that. And yeah, as I said before, I’m pretty sure she knew all about that before she married him. He’s a talker, you know.
After dutifully admiring how you, much like Batman, have striken terror in the heart of evildoers with your mere presence so that you haven’t even to lift a violent figure, simply gaze stonily down at them…er, okay. Again, no idea what your actual point is here in regards to either Hugo’s post or my comment. The best I can come up with is that you’re saying Hugo needs to get into more near-fights with strangers so he can understand what being a man is really all about..?
I think you’re saying that America isn’t normal?
You’re saying that people who go out of their way to avoid violence are by doing so going out of their way to remove themselves and their families from the gene pool? Which would mean that the way to stay alive and keep your family alive longer would be to…seek out violence..? eh?
I am impressed by the hubris that allows you to be the arbiter of what’s normal and what isn’t, Richard. But I suspect that you really aren’t the final word in the matter for all humanity.
I’m leaving Richard alone. I’ve had plenty of proximity to violence in my day, thanks.
And I may not be normal, but I’m not trying to market myself as an odd duck.
As for Isaac and Abraham, the Christian side of me is influenced, of course, by Kierkegaard’s famous take on that “leap of faith” (read it in college and was deeply moved by the solemn Scandinavian.) In Kabbalah, Isaac and Abraham are “chariots” who represent two of the ten Sefirot of existence; Abraham is Chesed (or Mercy) and Isaac is Gevurah (or Judgment); the binding of Isaac is the representation of the superiority of mercy over harsh judgment.
Hugo:
I stumbled upon your blog and am thoroughly enjoying reading it. You are articulate and thoughtful, and I appreciate the depth of conviction and honesty you bring in your writing. Thank you for sharing your musings!
That said: I think part of the “stone that makes men stumble” of the Christian faith is Jesus’ repeated declaration that no one was a true follower of God unless they hated their family: “You must hate your father and mother”, “no one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back”, “I have come to turn father against son”, etc. The hatred Jesus talks about is well pictured, I think, in the story of Abraham and Isaac–for sure, tying your son down and pulling a knife on him looks a lot like hatred. It sure doesn’t look like our idea of love. But if we believe what Jesus had to say, true love puts God first, no matter what the implications of that are. Some day, the implication of that may be being prepared to kill your child (as Abraham was), being prepared to give up your child (as Hannah and Jochebed did), or being prepared to give up yourself (as Jesus did).
But all too often we get so entrenched in the hypothetical scenarios and the “what if” situations that we forget: the radical love of God flowing through us has implications for our lives here and now, every day, not just in some possible far-off child-held-at-gunpoint sort of situation. And while it’s helpful to think through the hard questions before you actually get to the situation, so you have a chance to thoughtfully and reflectively bring your heart in line with God’s heart, we always need to come back to the question of how love for God and Godly love for others should be playing out in our lives right now.
I’m sure the Jews have another interpretation
Well, yes. It’s a Jewish historical and religious text.
It may make more sense to realize that Jews do not generally think of God as quite as Lawful Good as Christians do, and we don’t prize obedience in the same way. Yisra’el means wrestling with God, after all.
It’s a Jewish historical and religious text.
Well. It’s a Hebrew historical and religious text. Modern Judaism is clearly descended from those ancient people, but they had more than one set of offshoots. Modern Christianity is just as clearly a descendant.
Hector:
“That’s really silly. So because someone has claimed (falsely) to be protecting the innocent in the past, no one can make that claim legitimately now?”
No, I didn’t say no one can make that claim; sorry if I gave that impression. Like I said, I myself am not a pacifist. I was just saying that we should be skeptical of the impulse to protect the weak using violence, as it can easily bleed over into atrocity, and I’m not sure that there’s ever a bright line separating the two.
Hebrews were just one of the Canaanite tribes from which modern Judaism descended, Robert, if we’re going all the way back.
Mythago,
OK, right. My point (and, I think, Robert’s) is that there are more than one interpretation of the story of Abraham. You presumably believe the Jewish interpretation, and think that the typological interpretation is incorrect. I believe the opposite. (Indeed, I think that a lot of sacred history in many religions were, in various ways, prophecies of Christ- there are certainly stories in the Hindu and Zoroastrian religions that seem to me to prophecy Christ in the same way as the story of Abraham).
I do find the shift in position interesting and I do think Richard et al have some points in the privileging of child over wife. I don’t see myself as the kind of person who would love children more than partner - for me that would be a terrifying downward journey from cynosure to domestic person. (I’m a woman, btw). I would want to come first, always. It’s as blunt and competitive as that.
But I do know there is a biological imperative there. There have been two appalling cases of child abuse in the UK recently resulting in the childrens’ deaths - both have involved stepfathers, and this is not an anomalous result.
Ideelisme, with absolutely no ill will intended to you personally, just: that idea seriously squicks me out! I’ve seen Hugo express it here before, specifically that when he had kids his priorities would be first God, then spouse, then child. That may have changed since he’s become a father. Either way, both then and now, I find it really, really strange. In my family, my parents always made it clear that my brother and I were their number-one priority; they were a team whose goal was to take care of us. I can’t imagine it being any other way. How can a child not be one’s top priority? (I’m not being sexist here, this applies equally to men.) I can’t even articulate my objections, really, my mind just gets stuck. I’m not someone who thinks everyone should have kids, by any stretch, but once one does, everything is changed by that responsibility. Everything is changed for your spouse, too. How can it be any other way?
I suspect this is some kind of cultural difference; the thought just breaks my mind.
I always kind of assumed that if Joel and I had kids, in any situation involving danger, each of us would protect the kid first, not each other. I mean, the kid’s more helpless, right? Why would I expect Joel to be as protective of me, or he expect me to be as protective of him, as either of us would be of our child?
I also don’t tend to think of my pacifism in terms of whether I’d kill to protect my child (never, sadly, to be born), but more in terms of what I choose to prepare for.
I would want to come first, always. It’s as blunt and competitive as that.
I really understand your position here. I also feel like my marital relationship (or partner relationship, for those who can’t/don’t want to be married) should come before the kids too. At least, it’s just as important for us to take care of our relationship and our emotional needs, both for ourselves and for each other, as it is for us to take care of the kids. I’ve seen way too many people who poured everything they had into the children and they just didn’t have anything left over emotionally, mentally, or physically for each other. And that’s really, really sad to me.
That said, there are different times in the raising of children when priorities have to shift somewhat. When the babies are babies, they depend completely and totally on us, and since we’re the ones that made them, it’s our responsibility to take care of that. But as the kids get older, they need to learn that they aren’t the centers of our universe and that the primary relationship in our little family here is that between the husband and me, and their relationships to us and to each other come after that.
But in terms of actual, physical danger–I would expect the husband to save one of the kids before me and I would hope that he expects the same of me. I’m an adult and more or less capable of taking care of myself, as is he, the kids are not.
ks, very well put.
The whole thing about reason taking a back seat to feelins now that a child is in the picture?
Not so much.
Rather, reason utilized to modify a formerly theoretical position now that reality has shifted.
Despite the fact that I have carried a firearm since it became legal for me to do so, in that time I have prepared to draw it exactly twice, and neither time did it actually clear the holster. I shot some wild dogs threatening my sheep once. And held at the point of a shotgun two people I caught breaking into my garage. (And one guy trying to break into my house I scared off with a sword - though nt a firearm, the willingness to visit violence to defend me and mine was still implicit.) Not being a city dweller, the gendarmes are not quite so at hand for me; it gives one a more …heh … “Nuanced” view of the limitations of law enforcement.
Coming to see that a willingness to do so doesn’t require a joy in it; and that learning to prepare for the worst doesn’t indicate a wish for the worst to come to pass, eh? Where will it end? Realizing that those who are opposed to abortion might actually be more concerned with life than in “opwessing” someone? Capitalists might be motivated from a desire to see everyone be prosperous? Those who advocate for the fair treatment of men might not want to see the solution being unfair treatment of women, and only pointing out that this has been the effect on men lo so many years?