A vow at a wedding is better than a promise on the campaign trail

Snowdrops are symbols of the promise that winter will end and spring will begin.
On the Canadian prairie, every year, we desperately want to believe the promise of this tiny flower.

The news is full of the US election. So many words, so much hot air, so many calls for Kamala Harris to get specific on policy. But I am fine with her focus on being “a joyful warrior for the people”, on generating “an opportunity economy”, and on her commitment to “not going back”.

I am fine with this so-called soft approach, because I don’t put much stock in hard promises made on the campaign trail.

A lot can happen between a promise made on the trail and that promise becoming law in office — wars can break out, pandemics can arise, economics can take a dive. And, regardless of any chaos that might arise, we expect our leaders to pivot on their platform and to keep our lives and our livelihoods on track. So, promises will, inevitably, get broken, though not always with good reason.

Here in Canada, many of us were disappointed when Justin Trudeau went back on his promise of electoral reform, made during the 2015 election. On the campaign trail, he promised that that election would be the last one where “first past the post” would win and he promised to introduce electoral reform.

It was a much wanted and greatly anticipated campaign promise. But he broke it within less than two years of being in office. As Canada looks to a federal election no later than fall of 2025, we will be, once again, electing a government with the “first past the post” method. Bah! So much for promises made on the campaign trail.

My solution is that politicians quit with the promises and start making wedding-like vows to us voters instead.

When two people marry, they make vows to each other. More or less, those vows boil down to having and holding each other — for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health — until one of them dies. These are general statements of values and commitments; these are not promises of specific behaviours or programs they can expect of each other. Because we know that personal relationships go through ups and downs over the years, and we know that a strong foundation of trust and respect is the best way for any two partners to see each other through whatever life puts on their path.

When I married Val on August 31, 2013, my vow to her was in the form of the commitment “to nourish our belief in each other with love and tenderness and encouragement — every day.” Mostly, I think, I have lived up to that vow that speaks to a mindset and a practice of putting our partnership at the centre of my life. I could no more have promised to never snore (I do, with a vengeance sometimes, I’m told) than I could have to learn to appreciate being teased (I really hate being teased, a failing I blame on my being a middle child). And Val didn’t expect me to.

Specific promises have their place. A wedding is not one of them, and I’m not sure a campaign trail is either. I married a woman who vowed to show up for me with her best self possible, every day of our life together, and I’ll vote for the politician who shows me their values on the campaign trail and vows to live up to them in every decision they make during their time in office.

In the US election, for me, the choice is clear. (Too bad I can't vote.)

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Land acknowledgement: I respectfully recognize that I live on the original lands of Anishinaabe, Cree, Oji-Cree, Dakota and Dene peoples, and on the homeland of the Métis Nation.

Photo of snowdrop by Aaron Burden on Unsplash