Rousseau, mon ami, reluctantly

Plato held that men (I give him the benefit of the doubt by assuming, had he lived more recently, he would have included women and thus said humans) aren't adults until their forties. This week I enjoyed another birthday, and the acknowledgement of the wisdom of Plato's theory. I'm still progressing in my comprehension of the world, I understand more of it each year. I hold closer to Maslow's view of maturation, which was based on experiences under the belt rather than years. All the same, with all I see in the world now that was absent from my view previously, I find myself wishing I could get another bachelor's degree just to immerse myself in the liberal arts with my somewhat matured mind.

Back in college, I hardly considered Rousseau a friend. I was a Locke and Hobbes lover, the Enlightenment enemies of Rousseau. I never got past his fatal flaw of having five illegitimate children and giving them over to the state to raise. Now, I can read about one's personal life and, with the knowledge of my own mistakes, put human failure into perspective. I imagine that the private affairs of many, if not most great thinkers were shaky. Brilliance and passion are rough bed fellows. These days, I have to consider Rousseau closer to my values and perceptions than either Locke or Hobbes.

Perhaps one reason I so resisted Rousseau was natural teenage rebellion, as his philosophies were a huge influence on my mother, and therefore, my upbringing. My mom might not have claimed Rousseau at the time, but she did claim his proteges, Emerson and Thoreau. In my rural New Mexico home, Thoreau quotes adorned posters and Walden was an apt theme for our animal utopia with countless pigs, horses, sheep, cats, and dogs. Rousseau's proteges continue to influence my life as my husband was schooled early on in a Piaget program, and we've in turn chosen a Piaget-based pre-school for our children.

I was surprised to find strong tones of Rousseau in the book I'm writing now, Sustainable Parenting (shameless plug for a publisher. anyone?). I expected Thoreau, and was prepared to claim him. But Rousseau? I have a friend who intends to base his entire parenting approach on Rousseau's Emile. I chastise him because Emile was not a real boy, and what of the social contract with Rousseau's real children. We'll get to parenting eventually. First, I have to wrestle with the pig: politics. If you'd like to read with me, click here for an entirely readable translation of the Social Contract.