HegeMom

Recently, I wrote a paper about the Falklands War for one of my Poli Sci classes.  Now, I'm not going to recap the war here.  You either remember it or you don't, and if you don't, go and look it up or buy a book or something.

In doing the research for the paper, I came across an excellent analysis of the war, written by then-Second Lieutenant Jason McClure for a military research journal, Strategic Insights.  Not only was this a pretty spot-on analysis of the war and the motivational factors behind it, but it McClure also made a great point regarding the expectations that nations have entering into a war, and why they are different for smaller countries (say, Argentina) than for a hegemonic state (albeit a reduced one) such as Great Britain.

To paraphrase McClure, it's easily possible for a lesser country to take on a greater one, lose the entire war, and still get what they want.  In fact, both sides get what they want.  The lesser state gets some minor concessions and some attention and a net change, hopefully a gain, in its status quo.  The more powerful country gets a return to the status quo.

In writing the paper, I came up with a really good way of illustrating this concept, but it's a bit too whimsical and glib for use in an academic work.  But I have to get it out of my system, so academia's loss is your gain.

IMPORTANT NOTE: This has never happened at a holiday dinner at which I have been present. My personal memory of holiday dinners has been nothing but joyful and happy, with delicious food and nice, warm memories.  I do, in fact, have a Mom, but not like the one portrayed here, and I have no such thing as an Uncle Randy.  All of my uncles were WWII veterans.  Clear?  Then let's begin.

Thanksgiving dinner is a rich and old tradition in the family, going back decades.  All the family members and invited guests converge on Mom's house for a day of delicious food, happy chat, pumpkin pie, football on TV, kids running around, and so forth.  Mom owns the big house, so that's where everyone meets.  Mom also sets the menu, prepares the food, tells everyone when it's dinner time, establishes the schedule, and sorts, wraps, and distributes the plentiful leftovers.  She sets the table as well, with diplomatic skill, so that Uncle Henry won't be so close to the liquor cabinet and Aunt Grace, who is devoutly religious, won't sit next to Aunt Sarah's daughter, who is going through this thing with Goth music and the pale skin and black hair and makeup.  Honestly, she looks like a ghost.  Such a pretty girl, too.

So, Mom is the hegemon here.  She holds all the power and distributes all the resources.  She pulls the strings, and with the help of her enforcer, Dad, makes the whole meal run like clockwork.  Dad is the military arm.  He just does what he's told, trusting in Mom to bring and keep peace to the house.

The guests arrive in cars and minivans, couples, small families, with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Some of these people genuinely love Mom and think she's great for putting on this whole shindig. Some of them, to be honest, think Mom is a little bossy and overbearing, but come anyway out of varying senses of loyalty: Mom watched my kids when I was in the hospital.  Mom helped me through my divorce.  Mom lent me some money when I needed it. Some of these people are just here because they have no place else to go and don't want to sit at home.  Some of them just can't be bothered to cook for themselves.  A few of these people absolutely hate Mom and everything she stands for, but a free meal and some leftovers to take home is worth a few hours of being patronized.

And then there's Uncle Randy, who arrives in a taxi (such extravagance!), having flown in this morning from his loft apartment in the big city.

Mom doesn't talk about Uncle Randy much, but you know most of the story from family gossip. Mom and Randy were very close as children, inseparable, even.  They were the closest of pals, and stayed in contact as they grew up and went to college.

But over the years, they have drifted apart, due to some differences in personal philosophy and lifestyle.  Mom doesn't like Randy living in the city, which is so far away and full of crime and, you know, minorities (not that Mom isn't a firm believer in equality), and it's so expensive.

Randy, for his part, loves Mom, but he thinks she's had everything her own way for too long.  Mom always thinks she's right, and she's never interested in trying anything new. She's made a comfortable life for herself in the suburbs, and she wants to keep it that way.

The meal goes off without a hitch.  The turkey is perfect, the stuffing moist and delicious, the mashed potatoes plentiful, the gravy rich and savory, the relish tray and crudites divine.  The youngsters at the kids' table are boisterous but not to the point of requiring much discipline, unless one gets too noisy. In that case, a stern look from Mom to Dad makes Dad get up and walk over to the kids' table to get them to settle down.  (That Dad gets to refill his glass of Bushmills from the sideboard every time he takes the trip is an extra benefit.)

Now, it's time for the toast.  Usually, of course, Mom picks the person to give the toast, someone she can count on to be brief, tasteful, and, naturally, effusive in their praise for Mom.  This usually means the Rev. Parker, whose parish has been the recipient of much largesse from Mom and Dad.

But before the vicar can stand, Randy does, glass in hand.

"I'd like to make an announcement," he says, and proceeds to tell everyone that he has quit his job at the bank, and taken a job working in an art gallery, and is gay, and is going to be gone this Christmas because he will be in Majorca with his soon-to-be-spouse, Eric.

Naturally, Mom is appalled.  She's upset that Randy has done all this without talking to her.  She's upset that the family might think less of her for Randy's mild outburst. (They really don't care, to be honest; Randy's big reveal wasn't that surprising to anyone who'd talked to him for five minutes, and really, it's the 21st century.  Who cares?)

Mom fires the first shot: "I would never live like that.  All that promiscuity and craven behavior."

Randy drops the bomb: "Yeah, right, sis.  Remember, I knew you in college."

Things get worse after that.  Dad is now asleep on the couch with the Seahawks-Niners game on and has to be roused to escort Randy from the house.  Mom has a breakdown and retires upstairs, weeping.  The various relatives help themselves to whatever leftovers they can grab (Uncle Henry stretching the definition of "leftovers" to include "half-gallon Costco bottle of Tanqueray gin from the garage.")

The kids go outside and play.

The next year, Randy is not present at the dinner.  Everything is mostly as it was before, barring a few cracks in Mom's facade.  She gives the excuse that Randy "and his 'friend'" can't make it to dinner this year because of his work.  The dinner proceeds as always; the Reverend gives the toast, Dad falls asleep on the couch and misses Richard Sherman intercepting a Colin Kaepernick pass and running it back for a touchdown.

Who won?

Everybody.

Mom gets what she wanted.  Everything is back to the status quo, with one minor modification, and next year, people won't even notice that change.

The guests are happy as long as there's free food and maybe some leftovers.

Dad is happy because he doesn't have to work today and everybody seems content.

Randy is happy because he has elevated his position.  He is no longer defined solely in terms of his relationship within the Mom hegemony.  He has a great story to tell at parties, is no longer responsible to Mom, and has the freedom to do what he wants.

The parallels to the Falklands War are clear.  The UK got to return everything to the status quo as quickly as possible (and, quietly, resume agricultural trade with Argentina shortly thereafter.) Argentina got to change its position on the world stage and get some notice, although it did signal the end of their right-wing military junta, so even that worked out well.

It's an interesting metaphor, and one that can be extended a bit,