The relentless psychologizing of everything has impoverished the debate over Elián.
By Rich Lowry, NR Editor. National Review , 4/28/00 2:10 p.m.
The battle over the fate of Elián González has in many ways been a clash of psychologists, hurling dueling diagnoses from the various strongholds. He has bonded with Marisleysis, pronounced the psychologists in Miami. Seize him now, urged the psychologists in Washington. Let us
at him, pant the psychologists in Havana. In the age of socialism, we heard a lot about "economic man." The Elián controversy is another sign of the triumph of what Walker Percy called "psychological man," all of whose discontents can supposedly be soothed away by the
right prescription and diagnosis.
Conservatives, as Ramesh Ponnuru so eloquently pointed out in his review of Kay Redfield Jamison’s memoir a few issues ago, can be too dismissive of the fearsome toll of mental illness, from which psychology — and drugs — can offer blessed relief. But one can acknowledge that, and
still deplore the relentless psychologizing of everything. Indeed, this tendency has impoverished the debate over Elián. It shouldn’t matter what is more or less psychologically "traumatic" for the child, but what is right. Even if successful, Elián’s mother’s
journey with the boy from Cuba to Florida would have been "traumatic" — was it therefore wrong to undertake a priori? Lost in the discussion of Elián, thanks to our obsession with cheap psychology, is any consideration of his spirit, his soul. Where would it be given the best
chance to thrive, in Cuba or America?
To ask the question is to answer it. But if Elián’s fate is solely a question of psychological comfort, well maybe then he is better off with his dad. That the debate is framed always in psychological terms is one reason both sides resort to accusations of child abuse, the most
offensive charge possible in therapeutic America. The Miami relatives accuse the father of a history of abuse. Government psychologists accuse the Miami relatives of abuse (in videotaping him). And, of course, Cuban-Americans parade around with that infamous picture of the raid under the legend "Federal
Child Abuse," as if that’s the worst thing that can be said about it. Nonsense. The raid was reckless, it was unlawful, it was immoral, but it wasn’t child abuse. Child abuse is such a freighted — and over-indulged — accusation because it plays into our romanticized view of
children as tiny paragons of virtue who should undergo no hardship, so that a whack on the rump is enough to bring the social workers running.
Hardship relates to another point — just because America is more affluent than Cuba doesn’t mean that life here will be easier for Elián, as almost every commentator seems to assume. Back home, Elián will be the most famous little Communist going, and presumably get some
cushy job in a tourist hotel just like his dad. It won’t require any toil or risk on Elián’s part. In a land of enforced mediocrity, he’ll just be a little more mediocre than everyone else — not free, but easy. In America, in contrast, he will have to strive, and risk
failure in the process. Whether he ultimately is another sad child-celebrity flame-out, or something more, will depend on his will and discipline and spirit. That is what makes freedom so hard, and so scary. But something in us makes us love it anyway. Too bad it is exactly that something that all
the psychologists arguing over Elián are at a loss to explain.
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