When Politics Is Also Psychology

The father-son dynamic is an essential human relationship. Fathers wield powerful influences on their sons into adulthood, even when their children emerge as accomplished men in their own right, like Vice President Al Gore and Texas Gov. George W. Bush.

When examining this key relationship, it could well be that the leading presidential contenders of both the Republican and the Democratic parties are pursuing the nomination, in part, to please their fathers. In a recent New Yorker article, President Bill Clinton is reported to have said that the only reason Gore ever sought the presidency was to please his father. Florida Gov. Jeb Bush is quoted in a recent biography of his older brother to the effect that George W. has felt the pressure of living up to his father’s example all his life.

Psychologically, why are fathers so important to sons?

It is natural for a son to turn to his father as an ideal model of how to feel, think and act like a male. To facilitate masculine- and self-consolidation, a father needs to accept his son’s idealization and help the boy realize he can grow up and embody the paternal qualities he prizes, such as physical strength or intellect. This process strengthens the son’s self-confidence and sense of direction. But when the father is extraordinary or inaccessible, or a combination of both, the son’s idealization can increase monumentally. This makes it harder to believe he can ever fill his father’s shoes.

Both Gore and Bush had powerful, successful but largely absent fathers, according to their respective biographers, Bob Zelnick and Bill Minutaglio. Brothers Jeb and George W. referred to their father as a “beacon.” George W. believed his father was superior to most men at whatever he did. The son’s academic and work history virtually replicated his father’s, but, in many instances, the son fell short of his father’s accomplishments. His underachievement could well have been a reaction to the pressure he experienced trying to live up to his father’s image.

By providing mentoring and guidance, fathers help their sons acquire masculine backbone by learning self-discipline, responsibility and self-reliance. But sons also need support for their autonomy, their entitlement to do things their own way. When a father dominates and uses his son as a self-extension, the son is likely to have difficulty discovering exactly who he is.

For example, Gore’s father, Tennessee Sen. Al Gore Sr., might have been too domineering, according to Zelnick’s biography of the vice president. The senior Gore expected “obedience and good results on the farm, in school and at home, but [was] slow to offer praise when his son performed, simply issuing a new set of tasks.” Apparently, Gore Jr. became so intent on being good that Eleanor Smotherman, his second-grade teacher said, “Al Gore Jr. was so mature and advanced that I had to almost look at him to see if he was a child or a man.”

While Gore Sr.’s attitude might have contributed to his son’s self-discipline, was Gore Jr. able to sufficiently free himself from his father’s control to attain his own identity? Could the need to please his dominating father partly account for his “woodenness”? Could this same dynamic have been operating while he served as vice president to Clinton, a political-father representative, according to close associates? Certainly, Gore is now searching, quite openly, for a separate and winning political persona.

Similarly, Minutaglio reports that George W. Bush was intimidated by his father’s disapproval. Barbara Bush explained her husband’s disciplinary method: “The way George scolded was by silence or by saying, ‘I’m disappointed in you.’ And they [his sons] would almost faint.” “He would be made to feel that he had committed the worst crime in history,” is the way his younger brother, Marvin Bush, described George W. Bush’s reaction to their father. When 19-year-old George W. quit working on an inland barge seven days before his job commitment was to end, his father said, “I just want you to know that you have disappointed me.” George W. ran out of his office and has said he remembered those words for years. Is the son still intimidated by his awesome internalized father?

In addition to idealizing, every boy needs to be able to compete with and de-idealize his father to individuate. Developmentally, this normally takes place during the Oedipal phase and adolescence. The Oedipal period occurs between the age of 3 and 6, when little boys unconsciously compete with fathers for their mothers’ love. The outcome of this competition will ultimately determine the individual’s capacity to assert himself and take initiative without guilt, humiliation or fear of retaliation.

If the boy has not resolved his Oedipal competition, he might remain stuck in the psychological mode of pleasing father. Then, asserting himself and taking initiative could induce humiliating comparisons between himself and his “larger than life” father, resulting in unbearable feelings of inadequacy. Or such independent initiative could provoke debilitating guilt for competitively “attacking” the father.

Bush, for example, expressed Oedipal anxiety during his father’s 1988 presidential campaign, according to Minutaglio, when he commented it would be better for him if his father lost the election and retired to private life because of the enormous expectations for a son in politics whose father was president. However, he now appears to be comfortable with the support of his father. But to what degree? Is George W. still fearful of competing with his internalized father and has he fully differentiated and become his own man?

A son’s ultimate individuation is achieved through what is commonly called adolescent “rebellion,” the prelude to adult independence. In growing up, the adolescent challenges his father’s values, often somewhat self-destructively. Such self-destructive oppositionality tends to prove father right, thereby expressing an unconscious, regressive longing to remain a child. After achieving sufficient independence, a son can risk valuing his father again, without being threatened by his regressive wishes. As Mark Twain wryly noted, “When I was 14, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be 21, I was astonished at how much he had learned in seven years.”

If an adult has not experienced a normal adolescent rebellion, he could be self-destructively prone to defying authority figures. For example, it is unclear to what extent Gore Jr. was ever able to rebel against his father. Currently, he is defying Clinton by rejecting his help. Moreover, Gore is apparently unwilling to emphasize his own contributions to the achievements of the man whom he recently considered one of “America’s best presidents.” Gore has declared his intention to stop functioning as vice president to pursue his personal ambition of the presidency. Yet, this oppositionality could backfire politically, if he appears to shirk his current responsibilities.

Clearly, fathers can have a powerful, enduring influence on the psychological functioning of their adult sons. It remains to be seen whether George W. is more than an animated, personable reflection of his idealized moderate Republican father; or Gore can find his natural political identity--some comfortable middle ground between placating and rebelling against his internalized father--before alienating the voting public. The coming campaign might hinge on which of these sons is more capable of transcending the name of the father and speaking with his own voice. *