If I could, I would bring the warring exes of our broken national marriage into my old family therapy office. With a sofa and stuffed chair safely parted by a coffee table, it was a burrow where dark secrets could reveal themselves without fear of public exposure.
First I would listen to Ms Democrat alone while Mr Republican stewed in the waiting room. Then I would reverse them: listen to him, let her stew. We would repeat until they each confirmed what they truly desired for the country, behind the puffery. Then I would convene the three of us.
I would stand facing them, both seated and silent in their opposing upholsteries. I would tell them why the American populace, their children, need them. A family needs structure to feel safe. They need two parents to do the work of governing. Without that, there is nothing for an offspring to believe in. Anxious children get into trouble. Their children, the voters, have already lost hope. They are acting out because the parents have abandoned their posts.
Once I made that appeal, I would tell them it is time to step up to the plate. They have the ability, the knowledge and the desire to see a different outcome. From here on, I would say, our discussions must reflect that.
“You will lay down your weapons in this room and I will help you begin the hard work of showing your American family what it looks like to truly care about them. No more fisticuffs. Mr Republican and Ms Democrat, you are both fully grown. In this room you are called on to show it. Now let’s begin.”
I would then sit down and coach a dialogue, reminding them that public service can be something to be proud of.
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