Commentary
A couple of weeks ago, on a Tuesday morning, I was driving my children to the farmers market when the questions started.
“Mom, what’s a nonbinary God?”
“What does it mean to stand for trans rights?”
“What’s a Christian who hates Christianity?”
I have four children, and they ask me what feels like hundreds of questions a day. But these weren’t coming from conversations around our dinner table, their friends, or homeschool groups. They were coming from political advertisements interrupting their YouTube videos.
My daughter was particularly confused. Did this man hate Christ? Did he hate himself because he was Christian? Did he hate the Bible?
The man was James Talarico, a Texas Democrat running against Republican Ken Paxton for the U.S. Senate.
Then my son made another observation.
“I don’t know about this Talarico guy. His face is everywhere. In the mail, on YouTube, on billboards. Half the time they’re telling me he’s a good man, and half the time they’re telling me he’s a bad man.”
I explained that these men were competing for the same job, and the advertisements were trying to convince people which one should win.
My 9-year-old asked something that made more sense than much of what I’ve heard from political consultants.
“Why don’t they tell us what they’ve done for us, or what they’re going to do for us, instead of telling us what the other person can’t do?”
Exactly.
I’m a registered Republican. I have strong opinions about these issues. But I don’t want my children introduced to debates about transgender rights through political advertisements any more than I want those conversations introduced at school.
And Republicans aren’t alone. Democratic advertisements attacking Paxton prompted entirely different questions.
“Mom, what’s adultery?”
Now I’m explaining sexual misconduct allegations to my children because adults competing to govern Texas are broadcasting these accusations between cooking videos and science experiments.
We’re spending hundreds of millions of dollars ensuring children encounter precisely the subjects we claim we don’t want pushed into their childhoods.
And what are we teaching them? Not what either candidate has accomplished or intends to do about groceries, housing, health care, or the future of Texas. We’re teaching them how to attack someone.
I spent 27 years living in California before moving to Texas. One thing that still amazes me is how accessible government can be here.
There’s a level of human connection in Texas government that I didn’t experience in California. And it’s something I don’t want us to lose.
During COVID, thousands upon thousands of Americans left Democrat-led states for Texas. Their reasons varied, but many were looking for fewer restrictions, more opportunity, and greater freedom to make decisions for their families and businesses.
I understand that impulse. I lived through California’s regulatory environment as a business owner. Political differences aren’t always theoretical when you’re trying to keep a restaurant open, employ people, or build a farm.
But I worry we’re forgetting what made that sense of possibility so valuable.
Government derives its authority from we the people. Our rights and freedoms come from God, not government. Government is supposed to protect those rights, not grant them.
So why are we spending so much time talking about what’s wrong with other politicians instead of what they’re doing with the authority we’ve entrusted to them?
Take Paxton. His record as attorney general includes actions that could matter to voters concerned about health, consumer protection, and government power.
His office reached an agreement with Lululemon requiring chemical safety standards and supplier oversight for three years following an investigation involving potentially harmful chemicals, including Per- and polyfluoroalkyl substance (PFAS), in athletic clothing. No financial penalty was imposed, and the investigation did not establish that Lululemon’s products contained PFAS.
His office has also investigated potentially harmful chemicals in children’s underwear.
During COVID-19, Americans faced extraordinary pressure to take a vaccine. Government officials imposed mandates, threatened livelihoods, and restricted choices while pharmaceutical companies promoted their products. Paxton sued Pfizer, alleging the company misrepresented its vaccine’s effectiveness and conspired to censor public discussion.
These are substantive questions about corporate accountability, chemical safety, and the relationship between government and individual choice.
I’ve spent much of my adult life fighting for changes to our food system, first as a chef and now as a regenerative farmer. I’ve been disappointed by decisions coming out of Washington, particularly concerning pesticides and chemical regulations. I’ve watched the Make America Healthy Again (MAHA) coalition struggle with what was promised versus what was delivered.
Yet I recently wrote that I believe this administration has done more to advance regenerative agriculture than any administration in my lifetime.
Both things can be true. We can recognize progress and remain angry about setbacks.
Paxton’s record raises an interesting question: How much do Texans know about his work on issues that overlap with the concerns of the MAHA movement? His legal actions could be part of a broader discussion about health policy, even as that coalition debates its priorities and disappointments.
Instead, we’re spending staggering amounts telling Americans how terrible the other guy is.
By late October, outside groups had reported hundreds of millions of dollars in spending on the Texas Senate race, much directed toward opposing one candidate or the other.
And here’s the irony.
We say we don’t want children exposed to certain ideological debates. Then we spend enormous sums broadcasting those debates into their homes.
We say we want children to learn respect and responsibility. Then we show them adults spending millions tearing each other apart.
I don’t care which PAC paid for which advertisement. I care about what my children are seeing.
Imagine advertisements explaining what elected officials accomplished, where they failed, and what they intend to do next.
I’m not naive. Negative advertising exists because consultants believe it works. But winning an election and building a society worth living in aren’t necessarily the same thing.
I keep returning to my 9-year-old’s question.
Why don’t they tell us what they’ve done for us?
Whoever wins the Texas Senate race, I hope they remember their authority comes from the people. And I hope we remember it too.
The people aren’t supposed to serve government. Government is supposed to serve the people.
The views expressed herein are solely those of the author. As a nonpartisan public charity, The Epoch Times does not endorse these statements and takes no position on political candidates.
Views expressed in this article are the opinions of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of The Epoch Times.
