Parenting across cultures; Draco and Lucius

[gwendolyngrace]

No: HPFGUIDX 35507

Tabouli wrote:
> Ooo dear, ooo dear, let me rephrase (cross-cultural trainers have
been sued for less).  What we have here is a difference in
communication style.  <snip>  Hence there is comparatively little
stigma attached to using phrases like "express his love in a
meaningful way".
>

LOL. It's amazing how simple English isn't. I was trying to *avoid*
psychobabble, meaning "express" and "meaningful" in their literal
sense. I'm too used to being taken literally here, no matter what I
say, and then you go and *interpret* based on other posts and my
nationality? :^D Jeez, just change the rules, why don'cha?

And you're right: the type of parenting style we are talking about
here, with the "negotiation-based"--I love that term, it's so
accurate--reasoning, is just so prevalent as to be sickening to me.
There are certain things you can talk with a child about, and certain
things you don't. (Like when the kid is about to get himself killed is
not the time to sit down and try to have a discussion.) More on that
later. First, clearing up the confusion.

As far as culture, you said it is "about" culture, and I see what you
mean. I think we're suffering from a semantic difference here: first,
what we mean by "it's about" seems to be different; and second, what
we mean by "culture" is different.

When I said "it's not about culture," I meant that my cultural
background/upbringing was irrelevant to Lucius's actions
toward/regarding his son. It doesn't matter (to me) whether I'm
American, female, 30, pagan, bisexual, divorced, or any other factor
when I read the books. What matters is the facts and the connectivity
of those facts within the fabric of the culture of the Book.

You meant (I think) that one's culture inextricably colours one's
interpretations of any given event or chain of events in anything one
reads/watches/hears. And yes, on a personal level, you're right.

But I think I'm right too. I'm in the business of understanding
characters. I'm an actor. That's my job. To get inside a character's
head, one MUST set aside any cultural differences or backgrounds that
don't apply to the character. Lucius isn't any of the things I
am--except that I was once married, and he was once 30, but I've never
been a rich, influential, 40-something English aristocratic wizard and
parent. So *my* cultural backdrop is irrelevant--it must be discarded
in favour of Lucius's in order to shed any light on the nature of his
relationship with his son.

Now, it can be argued that *some* of the psychology applies regardless
of culture, as well. Writing is fundamentally about relationships, and
this story, it seems to me, resonates a lot on the theme of fathers
and sons. So understanding some fundamentals that really do (IMO)
cross cultural boundaries can be helpful. Regardless of one's culture,
do not all people desire to be loved by their parents? The difference
is where, when, and how that love is expressed. For some, the need for
love is satisfied by knowing that one's parents pushed them to excel;
for others, it is satisfied with material reward; still others need
the constant expression of affection or self-esteem building. Yes,
culture plays a vital role in shaping the cues that signal to a child,
"See? My father loves me."

That's why I also said that if you asked either of them, they would
each answer "Yes. Of course we love each other." Assuming they'd even
want to answer. ;^) But there's a vast difference between accepting
the cultural clue (My father bought me a broom; therefore, he loves
me. My father pushes me to excel, therefore, he loves me. My father
had that hippogriff destroyed; therefore, he loves me, etc.), and
believing it at the most basic level. And it's in that disconnect,
that dichotomy between superficial truth and emotional truth, that
relationships take form.

I was actually talking about pop psychology with my friend the other
night, on the subject of children especially. I noted that some of the
worst parents I've ever known have been--and apologies to those
listies who are--psychologists. Joel pointed out that in his
experience, many people who use psychological theory with children
seem to assume that every child is really a little adult deep down
inside, and if one can simply "reach" that adult, the child can be
reasoned with and will respond to that appeal to reason.

The problem as I see it is that really, they have it 180 degrees
wrong. It's not every child who is really a pint-sized adult, but
every adult who is really just a very tall child. As adults, we agree
to play with one another by a set of specific conventions--cultures,
if you will--that dictate our interactions. It is the overlaying of
those cultural conventions that complicates relationships and adds
complexity.

Lucius's reaction to the Buckbeak incident puts me in mind greatly of
something that happened while I was in high school. At a dance one
year, a number of kids smuggled in a fifth of bourbon, drank it among
about 4 of them, and decided to leave campus to go get some fast food.
They were so drunk they puked all over the restaurant. The manager
found out they had come from the dance, called the school, and some of
the chaperones/teachers left the dance to collect the kids and call
their parents. One girl's parents *refused* to accept that their
daughter would be involved in such a thing. Despite the fact that she
still had the bottle, she was identified both by people who saw her
leave and by staff at the restaurant, and she had a history of
instigating these kinds of infractions, her parents insisted that she
could not have been responsible for, much less involved in, any of the
occurrences.

By contrast, I was a pretty good kid. I wasn't without my moments, but
basically, I never really gave my folks much cause for worry. But I
think part of that was because my parents were more than willing to
believe their little angel could be quite the troublemaker when she
wanted to be. So if my mother got a call for some reason, her first
reaction was usually, "Uh-oh. What did she do?" They were pretty clued
in to things, on the whole, and they didn't put up with any--I'll use
the word again, just for you, Tabouli--bullhockey.

I have to agree completely with Meg, when she says that she knows
Draco's type. I do, too. I went to school with a number of Dracos.
There were even some who came from pretty old--for American--wealth,
to whom that concept of "the good of the family" rationale was not at
all foreign. But the tendency of their parents to simply not even pay
the slightest mind to their children's development was all too
evident. It's not just leaving them to someone else--they have to be
willing to back up that other person's methods if they want to recuse
their own responsibility. When the child hears "no" from a source they
perceive to be less authoritative than their own parent, who says,
"Well, okay," or worse, "I'll sue the school," how can the child learn
to respect any authority but his own?

Also, as Meg says, in Draco's case, any attention is good attention.
But there can still be a disconnect between what he knows is "right"
culturally--back to those clues he can look to to "prove" that he was
loved--and what he needs on a more elemental level. Lucius, who
condones at least some of the behaviour Draco displays--because he
also indulges in pettiness, teasing, prejudice, and worse--reinforces
the model that conduct doesn't matter as much as breeding.

I had a point in here somewhere, I swear. Ah yes: Lucius takes the
right "actions" to show Draco--by the cultural clues--that he cares
about his son. Yet he mixes those actions with really poor examples of
how to behave--and I think, no little amount of disdain. It's a
paradox that Draco can't fail to miss, no matter how he chooses to
suppress it in favour of believing the surface input--the material
rewards, the reminders to be a Malfoy, the combination of defending
him while attacking the creature who harmed him.

So for me, the clearest path to Draco redemption lies in circumstances
that would reveal to him, bring home to him, the size of the gulf
between what he *believes* to be his relationship with his father and
what it actually is. I also think he needs to understand what it is to
be someone else's tool, to be betrayed, to be hurt, and that hasn't
happened yet. I still think it might, though, in a way that doesn't
require his story to take center stage, but in a way that implies his
confusion and his search for the right course to take.

Whew. I think I'm all set for now.

Gwen (who will never really say to any 18-month old, "Now, give mommy
the choking hazard, please" as if it was really going to work, but who
makes a fantastic Aunt)