Women, Family, and the Expectations of Leadership

“Women do almost as well as men today as long as they don’t have children.”

-- Professor Jane Waldfogel, Columbia University, 2010

In EEOC v. Bloomberg L.P., 778 F. Supp. 2d 458, 485-486 (S.D.N.Y. 2011), a major gender discrimination lawsuit, Chief Judge Loretta A. Preska of the United States District Court for the Southern District of New York declared, “[M]aking a decision that preferences family over work comes with consequences…perhaps unfortunately, women tend to choose to attend to family obligations over work obligations thereafter more often than men in our society.  Work-related consequences follow.”

We see this pattern not only in the fast-paced, high-pressure world of financial journalism, but across a spectrum of jobs, including the highest leadership posts in our government. While the last three men nominated to the Supreme Court (Samuel Alito, John Roberts, and Stephen Breyer) have all been married (with seven children among them), the last three women (Elena Kagan, Sonia Sotomayor and Harriet Miers) have all been single and without children.

As freelance writer Robin Marty noted, “When men are able to rise to high-powered positions, dominating the roles of CEO, upper level management, and yes, Supreme Court Justice and even President, all while at the same time being able to raise a family, but women can only pursue these options without being encumbered by children, there is still a major hurdle to overcome.”

Others, however, appear nonplussed by the sacrifices demanded by politics or business at its highest levels. As Kathryn S. Wylde, President of the Partnership for New York City, told the New York Times in the wake of Judge Preska’s historic ruling:

I am among the first generation of ‘liberated’ women professionals who took for granted we would have to sacrifice personal time and family life to achieve our professional goals. Younger women tend to assume ‘equality in the workplace,’ along with the notion that they can and should ‘have it all.’ I don’t think that is possible for men or women, and certainly not in the competitive environment of New York City.

Thus, before we can even figure out how to overcome the hurdle Marty described, we must first decide how or whether to characterize it as a hurdle in the first place. This effort requires us to examine the appropriate balance between professional duty to our community and our personal lives.

This week, Gordon Marino, a professor of philosophy at St. Olaf College, wrote in the Times Opinionator, “Our desires should not be the ultimate arbiters of vocation. Sometimes we should do what we hate, or what most needs doing, and do it as best we can.”

On the one hand, it seems plain that people need and deserve to live enriching lives beyond the toils of our labor. If, as a great ancient philosopher once said, humans are “luminous beings” and not merely “crude matter”, it stands to reason that our professional passions are but a small part of our souls.

On the other, as Christina Rossetti wrote in her poem-turned-Christmas-carol In The Bleak Midwinter, each of us must do our part, particularly the “wise men” who have been granted opportunity to little credit of their own.

And yet, what Marino misses in his piece—and what so many people who view work and life as a “zero sum” game fail to understand—is how love, family, and personal fulfillment can and do enable professional success and should be viewed as assets rather than liabilities, particularly among leaders in business, politics, and law.

It’s no secret that finding internal peace and happiness in life is brutally difficult, even for those blessed with the material trappings of the developed world. Waving that quest off as if it is a distraction from our core functions is neither helpful nor realistic. Indeed, while some of us can dupe ourselves into thinking that somehow we can do the professional without regard to the personal, life eventually hits you upside the head and it becomes crystal clear that the foundation of success in any realm—the font from which all-else flows—is intimate human connection: familial, fraternal, romantic.

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While it may be acceptable to expect professional athletes or master chess players to have an almost monastic devotion to their craft—the skill and dexterity needed to succeed at the highest level being almost directly tied to their hours of practice—political leaders are different animals.

Being a “political junkie” does not dovetail with being an effective representative. Sure, politicians need to have an understanding of the levers of power and should have a strong historical/procedural understanding of the body to which they are elected; but successful leadership in government requires so much more.

It requires an understanding of the diverse perspectives of your constituents, while simultaneously being confident in one’s own conception of First Principles. It requires a keen awareness of the values of the community and the emphasis placed on certain elements of life that may not at first glance appear to demand prioritization. And perhaps more than anything else, it requires empathy with the real problems of real people (as opposed to obsession with the political problems of political people).

In the spring of 2001, a friend who was graduating from Hamilton-Wenham Regional High School gave me a wallet-sized yearbook photo with a lovely message on the back, which I carry to this day. Well aware of my outsized ambitions, my friend took pains to urge me to “never close my mind to a family life.” It was an incredibly poignant piece of advice from someone one year my senior by the clock, but ages ahead in the consideration of what factors make a life worth living.

And yet, even as I recognize the prescience of her words, it is a challenge to beat back the uncertainty that comes from a political world that demands more of us than most are willing to give and, perhaps more importantly, more than it should demand if we want our representatives to have the perspective of a well-rounded existence that is so cherished by the polity at large.

Walking the Walk: The Courage to Believe in Politics

“Elections belong to the people. It's their decision. If they decide to turn their back on the fire and burn their behinds, then they will just have to sit on their blisters.” 

-- President Abraham Lincoln

Yesterday, the New York Times showcased the campaign of Eric Lesser, a college classmate of mine who is running for the Massachusetts State Senate in the First Hampden and Hampshire District. However, instead of viewing Eric’s efforts as emblematic of a Millennial generation inspired to serve, the Times characterized Eric as an outlier amidst a generation that has in many ways opted out of the rough and tumble life of American elective politics.

This withdrawal should concern all of us who continue to see public service (which includes politics!) as an endeavor worthy of our commitment and sacrifice, particularly because the very factors that have turned so many young people away from running for office may also turn them away from being the type of “active” citizens our nation needs to thrive.

The cynicism that now pervades American politics is all the more concerning because, for generations, belief in the American “experiment” has been something of a civic religion in a nation lacking a collective spiritualism. As historian Gordon Wood wrote,

We have even built a temple to preserve and display the great documents consecrating the founding of the American creed—the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution, and the Bill of Rights. At the National Archives in Washington, D.C., these holy texts are enshrined in massive, bronze-framed, bulletproof, moisture-controlled glass containers that have been drained of all harmful oxygen.

And yet, despite the fact that we live in a cynical age, there can be no mistaking the fact that the American People want to believe in our experiment; want to believe that our whole is much greater than the sum of our parts; want to believe that public service is an honorable path taken by honorable women and men. As the fictionalized FDR (played by Bill Murray) tells King George VI (played by Samuel West) in Hyde Park on Hudson, “We think they see all our flaws. But, that’s not what they are looking to find when they look to us. “

Rather, as Michael Jonas points out in the current issue of Commonwealth Magazine, voters are looking for “charismatic, visionary leader[s]” to challenge our assumptions and inspire belief in the possible.

We Will Finish The Race and the
Experiment Will Live On.

Those leaders don’t emerge out of the ether. They are individuals who put actions being their words and jump in the ring, all with the courage to lose. As Eric said, “If you want to be involved in politics, at a certain point you’ve got to walk the walk.”

For those of us intent on running for office, “walking the walk” includes taking it to the campaign trial—petitioning, fundraising, door-knocking, and persuading our fellow citizens not merely that we deserve their vote, but that the vote is a power worth exercising.

But even more, it means asserting the all-too-radical belief in what David Brooks calls “the nobility of politics”—that politics is a profession worthy of our energies and that making personal sacrifices for the common good is an inherent quality of good citizenship.

149 years to the day after the death of our greatest President, and a year after bombs tore through the heart of New England’s most sacred secular holiday, let’s remember how even in America’s darkest moments, We The People have rallied around our great experiment.

As Professor Allen Guelzo wrote about the Gettysburg Address:

The genius…lay not in its language or in its brevity (virtues though these were), but in the new birth it gave to those who had become discouraged and wearied by democracy’s follies, and in the reminder that democracy’s survival rested ultimately in the hands of citizens who saw something in democracy worth dying for. We could use that reminder again today.

Today, the urgency with which we are called to belief in the democratic experiment is as strong as it has ever been.