The Government Shutdown: Because Congress Would Rather Sleep on the Couch Than Talk it Out

The government is shut down again. Federal workers aren’t getting paychecks. National parks are closed. And somewhere in Washington, our elected officials are pointing fingers at each other like toddlers fighting over the last juice box.

Since one Georgia congresswoman has called for a national divorce, I’ve been thinking: maybe what Congress really needs isn’t a divorce lawyer, but a good marriage counselor. Preferably one who specializes in couples who communicate exclusively through social media posts and cable news shouting matches.

I’ve been married long enough to know that when things get tough, you don’t just throw in the towel and split the china. You sit down, you talk it out, and you remember that you made a commitment to be together for life. Elected people in congress don’t even have “til death do us part” stamped on their commitment. They just have 4 to 6 year terms.

My wife and I have weathered our share of storms. We’ve survived furniture assembly, GPS disagreements, and the battle over the thermostat. Honey Doodle likes to save energy and not run the heat or the air until fall has firmly turned to winter. I, on the other hand, prefer comfort at the push of a button. I have agreed to attempt to layer my clothing before turning on the heat. Our compromise was simple. We don’t run the heat until my wife gets tired of seeing me roam around the house in a tattered bathrobe all day long.

If we can make it through those trials, surely our elected officials can figure out how to keep the government running.

So in the spirit of keeping this dysfunctional American family together, I’d like to offer some time-tested marriage advice that Congress might want to consider. You know, before they lawyer up and start dividing custody of the Smithsonian. We will ignore, for the purposes of this column, that one of the parties involved has a serious personality disorder.

Don’t Let the Sun Set on Your Anger

This is Marriage 101, straight from the book of Ephesians. When you’re mad at your spouse, you don’t storm out of the house, hop on a plane, and spend the weekend fundraising while the problem festers.

Yet somehow, Congress thinks it’s perfectly acceptable to leave town while the government is shut down. “Sorry, America, we know you’re not getting paid and national parks are closed, but we’ve got donors to schmooze and constituents to avoid.”

Here’s a wild idea: stay in Washington until you fix it. Order some pizza, brew some coffee, and don’t leave until you’ve figured it out. 

Attack the Problem, Not the Person

In marriage, you’re supposed to say things like “I feel frustrated when the dishes don’t get done” instead of “You’re a lazy slob who doesn’t care about our home.” It’s called using “I” statements, and therapists charge $250 an hour to teach you this.

Congress, on the other hand, prefers the “You’re a socialist/fascist/spineless warthog who wants to destroy America” approach. Which, shockingly, doesn’t lead to productive conversations.

Here’s the thing: your spouse isn’t the enemy. The dirty dishes are the enemy. The overdrawn bank account is the enemy. The weird noise the car is making that you’ve both been ignoring for three weeks is the enemy.

Similarly, Democrats aren’t the enemy. Republicans aren’t the enemy. The actual problems—the budget, the debt ceiling, health care, unemployment, prescription drug prices, immigration —those are the enemies.

But it’s easier to demonize the person across the aisle than to tackle the complicated, nuanced issues that require actual work. It’s the political equivalent of yelling “You disgust me!” instead of calmly explaining what you need. And just like in marriage, it solves exactly nothing.

Find a Compromise

Marriage is the art of compromise. My wife loves Mexican food and likes to have Taco Tuesday. She has never been big on pizza or movie night. If I never step foot in a Mexican restaurant again, I’d be fine with it, and Pizza and a movie is my version of bonding. So, every Tuesday I tolerate food I could live without and every Friday she sits down for pizza and a movie.

The point is, nobody gets everything they want. That’s not how relationships work. That’s not how governing works either, despite what the loudest voices on both sides seem to think.

Compromise isn’t weakness. It’s not betraying your principles. It’s recognizing that you live in a house with other people who also have opinions, needs, and the occasional good idea you didn’t think of first. Burning the house down because you don’t want to hear differing opinions isn’t an option.

I’ve watched Congress in recent years dig in their heels over every issue. The only thing they can seem to agree on is that they want to be reelected. 

Don’t Play the Blame Game

Nothing kills a marriage faster than keeping score. “Well, I took out the trash three times this week, so you should…” Stop. Just stop.

The blame game is exhausting, unproductive, and makes everyone miserable. Yet it’s Congress’s favorite pastime.

“The Republicans shut down the government!” “No, the Democrats refused to negotiate!” “No, YOU!” “No, YOU!”

Meanwhile, federal workers are checking their bank accounts and doing math on how long they can stretch their groceries, and the rest of us are watching this circus wondering if we should just elect a council of golden retrievers instead. At least they’d be happy to see each other.

In marriage, blame doesn’t solve problems. It just creates resentment and a mental spreadsheet of grievances that will definitely come up during your next argument. What solves problems is saying, “Okay, we’re in this mess together. How do we get out of it?”

I don’t care whose fault it is that the government shut down. I care that it’s shut down and nobody seems particularly motivated to fix it. Stop pointing fingers and start solving problems.

Work Together

Here’s a revolutionary concept: you’re on the same team.

I know, I know. Republicans and Democrats have different philosophies, different priorities, different ideas about the role of government. But you’re all Americans. You all took an oath to serve this country. You’re all supposed to be working toward the same basic goal: making life better for the people you represent.

My wife and I don’t agree on everything. But when something important comes up—a family crisis, a financial decision, a major life change—we work together. Because we’re a team. Because that’s what you do when you’re committed to something bigger than your own comfort.

Congress used to understand this. There used to be bipartisan friendships, cross-aisle collaborations, and a general sense that we’re all in this together. Now it feels like two rival gangs who happen to share a building and a deep, mutual contempt.

You don’t have to like each other. You don’t have to be best friends. You don’t even have to follow each other on social media. But you do have to work together. That’s literally the job description.

Remember, We’re All One Family

This is the big one. The one that matters most.

In marriage, when things get really tough, you have to set aside your differences and your preferences to do what is best for your family.

America isn’t a marriage, but it is a family. A big, messy, dysfunctional family that argues at Thanksgiving and has wildly different opinions about everything from politics to barbecue sauce to whether “y’all” is a proper word. (It is.)

But it’s still a family.

We have to figure out how to live together, work together, and govern together. Not because it’s easy, but because it’s necessary. Because the alternative is chaos, dysfunction, and federal workers wondering how they’re going to pay rent.

I’ve been married long enough to know that the hard times don’t last forever. The arguments fade. The frustrations ease. You remember why you’re together in the first place, and you keep going. Not because everything is perfect, but because you’re committed to something bigger than your own ego.

Congress could learn something from that.

So here’s my advice to our elected officials: Stop threatening divorce. Stop playing games with people’s livelihoods. Stop treating governance like a reality TV show where the goal is to create drama and eliminate your opponents.

Instead, try acting like adults in a committed relationship. Communicate. Compromise. Work together. Remember that you’re all part of the same family, even if you don’t always like each other. And for the love of all that is holy, don’t leave town until you fix this mess.

My wife and I have made it through years of marriage by following these principles. We’ve survived job losses, family tragedies, and that time I thought I could use power tools. (I could not.) If we can do it, Congress can too.

Oh, and one more thing: In a marriage, when you can’t agree on how to spend money, you can’t just stop paying the bills. If it isn’t an option for the citizens of this country, it shouldn’t be an option for Congress.