I fled Washington, D.C. years ago.  Growing up the child of a politician, I always found the glad-handing, backslapping rubber chicken circuit a real drag. Apparently, I was in the minority, because despite increasingly vicious pummeling by the press and opponents, there seems to be no end of eager bright-eyed contenders scrambling up over the ropes and into the ring. I was lucky enough to respect my father. I never doubted that he was motivated by a desire to serve his country.  But, what happens to a child when it becomes obvious that the parent is propelled, not by altruism, but by unbridled ambition or egomania? What happens when a child’s blind faith in his or her parent is upended by allegations of corruption or sexual impropriety?    

Let’s start with the relatively benign sin of unbridled ambition and take the recent case of Sarah Palin.  It’s hardly worth noting that politics attracts egomaniacs, but even if you’re lucky enough to have a semi-normal, engaged political parent, spending your life stumping is not any child’s idea of a good time.  As a liberal Democrat, I should state at the outset that I am not a fan of Sarah Palin.  However, I did read her memoir Going Rogue.  Despite disagreeing with her on just about every issue, I think she’s a likeable gal.  She’s what we call “folks” here in the Midwest.  The section of the book that struck a chord with me involves her daughter Bristol.  Early on in the presidential campaign, Palin receives a call from Bristol, who is back in Alaska, and is distraught over the coverage of her pregnancy.  Palin is quick to lambast the media for attacking Bristol, but fails even once to acknowledge that, by knowingly setting out on the trail during this traumatic period in her daughter’s life, she is the one who set Bristol up.  Anybody can have a teenage daughter who gets pregnant, but how many in that situation would have made the decision to pursue high office, and thereby throw their daughter to the wolves?  Either Palin was naïve or she was too self-absorbed to think about how the press would react. She now has her own television show Sarah Palin’s Alaska where she is often seen sharing her parenting conundrums with the camera.  There I heard her claim, without a hint of irony, that traveling around the state (accompanied by the camera crew) has been great for her daughter Bristol who needed to get away from it all.    

Politicians who attain high office often succumb to temptation.  It’s become so de rigueur, it’s hard to be properly incensed anymore.  That would change if we thought long and hard about what each transgression costs a child.  A politician’s family is working almost as hard as the candidate on the campaign trail.  By election night, the kids have smiled and waved in countless parades.  Then six months later, their thankless parent has sex with an intern.  Nobody’s perfect but a case could made that politicians ought to try even harder than the average person to be virtuous.  Their jobs are hard-won and their kids pay a high price.  Don’t they deserve a parent they can respect?    

Nevertheless, politicians routinely shame their families and when they do, they apologize and expect forgiveness. Within a month or two, you may catch sight of one serving soup to the homeless in Anacostia in the first of many lame attempts to reingratiate themselves with the people.  While this has proven possible on many occasions in the public arena, it is a much harder row to hoe at home.  Try getting over the fact that your father frequents brothels or co-opts sexual favors from staffers who are young enough to be your sister.  In Europe Americans are frequently derided as prudish, but, if nothing else, I believe we have the right to be irritated on behalf of the children.  It is worse in my mind to dishonor your children than tarnish the office you hold.  The world, as a whole, is a slavish mistress willing to endure almost any abuse from its elected officials.  Case in point: Eliot Spitzer, who appears nightly on CNN, looking just as sleazy and self-righteous as he ever did.  Former President Clinton commands hundreds of thousands of dollars every time he opens his mouth. By the time Ted Kennedy died, he was a scion of the political world, not a drunken negligent father whose own son admitted he was happy he had asthma, because when he we was sick, his dad made a point of tucking him in at night.

Elizabeth Edwards passed away last week after a six-year battle with cancer. The past six years played out like this: She announced that she was battling cancer in 2004 and later, that it had recurred.  Her husband never stopped campaigning.  Whether she persuaded him to keep going or argued against it is moot. After all, what else could she say?  The fact remains that he justified it in his own mind.  He showed his stripes. Later I was not the least bit surprised to learn he was having an affair.  A very messy, very public marital squabble ensued.  The mistress posed in her underwear. DNA testing confirmed the baby was his. Mr. Edwards moved out.  Mrs. Edwards succumbed to cancer.  Where were the children when all of this was going down?  Right there in the thick of it.  Where are they now? Still there. Moreover, what will happen three months, six months, a year from now?  Edwards may well contemplate a comeback.  But, whether he rises from the ashes or not, there will never be any redemption for his children.  Their damaged psyches are his lasting legacy. Political life is short-lived, terms expire, parties move in and out of favor, but your children have to live with the consequences of your behavior forever.  Isn’t that a scary thought?

It ought to be.