Ender's Game: Fatherhood, Failure, and Forgiveness

There are three things I’ve learned about fatherhood so far: I’m getting it wrong, I’m the only who can do this, and I’m never giving up.

I’ve been so excited for our next meeting where we’ll get into Orson Scott Card's Ender's Game, my favorite book from the time I was a kid not much older than Ender himself. In the interim years I’ve come home to the Catholic Church, and this new reread has made me reflect on the theme of fatherhood through the lens of Catholic teachings. Today I know that fatherhood is part of my vocation, and the stakes couldn’t be higher. I also have both perspectives now, as a son, as well as a father of a son. The father-son relationship can go a lot of different ways, some better than others. The most important thing in my life is the direction I take with my own sons. I want that to go right, and most days it’s hard to know if I’m hitting the mark. Ender’s experiences with his three primary father figures—John Paul Wiggin, Colonel Graff, and Mazer Rackham—have reminded me of the hardest parts of being a son, as well as what matters most in being a good father. Each of these men illustrates an example of fatherhood in an imperfect, hard world.

When I look at Ender’s experiences with his father figures, the most straightforward wrong way is the clear juxtaposition between the two extremes of Ender’s biological father, John Paul, and his quasi-sensei military trainer, Mazer Rackham. Both these relationships illustrate how a father can fail to really see and care about his child, in very different ways.

When I first read Ender's Game, it didn't occur to me that there was anything wrong with Ender's relationship with his father John Paul. I didn't realize they should be close. Reading it now as an adult, my heart breaks for poor Ender. I know what it's like to experience that emotional distance from your father. Seeing my own son, who is only a couple of years older than Ender is at the beginning of the book, I am determined never to let him feel that way.

Ender's world is engineered to interfere with parent-child relationships, from the limit on the number of children in a family, to the suppression of religion. These societal constructs discourage parents from investing in their children, particularly in the Wiggin family. In these conditions, it’s no wonder that John Paul Wiggin is detached to the point of being all but absent from his son’s life. He isn’t invested at all, and that father wound cuts deep into Ender, who must deal with the truth that his father is relieved to be rid of him at a very young age.

On the flip side of that coin, Mazer Rackham is entirely too invested in Ender—but in the wrong way. He is a single-minded man with no genuine concern for Ender's well-being, and he is willing to use the boy up if it means achieving his goal of defeating the Buggers. Mazer, having sacrificed his own life for this goal, sees no issue in driving young Ender to the same fate. This is not a father who cares about the long-term health and happiness of his child. Instead, Mazer is a father who pushes his "son" too hard for his own glory, recognizing Ender's greatness only to exploit it for his purposes. To Rackham, the ends justify the means, and Ender is merely a tool. Just as I never want my sons to feel the pain of my apathy, I also never want them to think they exist to make me look good or to live out my unmet ambitions.

Both John Paul Wiggin and Mazer's approach were easy for me to critique, since they so starkly contrast with the Catholic understanding of fatherhood. The Church emphasizes nurturing the child's holistic development and valuing them as autonomous individuals. Fatherhood is about good stewardship of the most precious gift from God. Children don’t belong to us; they are entrusted to us. In the Catholic view, a father's role is to guide and protect, not to use or exploit. John Paul is too apathetic and distant to care at all. He’s allowed societal and social constructs to destroy his attachment to his own son. On the other end of the spectrum, Mazer's utilitarian mindset highlights the dangers of a father who prioritizes success and achievement over the well-being of their child. Both these relationships serve as a cautionary tale to remind me of the importance of recognizing and honoring the intrinsic worth of my children, rather than seeing them as either unwanted burdens, or else mere instruments of my own glory.

So it seems easy enough to dismiss these extreme pictures of apathy versus exploitation. Most of the guys I know are aware of these kinds of father wounds, and don’t want to inflict them on their own sons. I know that’s true for me. But things are harder when I look at the only father figure left in the book, and realize all ways that self-awareness and good intentions still don’t create a perfect dad.

Colonel Graff is the closest thing Ender gets to a father who really tries to do right by him. Graff is also willing to use Ender, much like Mazer Rackham, because he believes it is necessary for the greater good. However, Graff's approach is markedly different. He does not use Ender without concern for the boy's well-being. He spends most of the novel being wracked with guilt and doubt over limiting harm. Graff takes significant actions, even risking his own career, to develop Ender in a way that preserves his humanity. He is the only character in the book truly concerned about what might happen to Ender after the war.

Graff wants Ender to become the leader they need to win, but not at any cost. He isn't willing to sacrifice Ender's future to accomplish the mission. Graff recognizes that the key to success lies in preserving the qualities that make Ender unique—the humanity, compassion, and empathy that set him apart. This distinguishes Graff from other father figures in the story, since he at least tries to balance the demands of duty with genuine care for Ender's future. Graff embodies a more nuanced and morally conscious form of fatherhood, acknowledging the importance of nurturing the child's intrinsic qualities while striving for a greater goal.

I want to judge Graff for all the ways it still wasn’t good enough. There were too many times that Graff hid behind duty and turned a blind eye, or allowed cowardice to pose as pragmatism. The rationalizations also came on thick in many key decision-making moments. But I’m pretty sure the point of Graff’s character is that you couldn’t be harder on him than he was on himself. And good or bad, he never stopped trying. Maybe that kind of humble perseverance is the ideal goal.

My wife recently told me she learned that “holy” and “perfect” are not synonyms. So I’ve been looking at “holy” as being a lot more about setting my aim correctly and stubbornly striving for it. When I apply the lens of Catholic teachings to Ender’s Game, I see the importance of active and present fatherhood, the moral struggle of balancing ambition with protecting innocence, and the dangers of a utilitarian approach. I know that genuine care, moral integrity, and the nurturing of my children’s intrinsic worth are the essential qualities I want to embody. And I also know that ultimately the perfect model of fatherhood is God—unconditional love and self-sacrifice, all for the highest good of His children’s development. And I know that like Graff, judgement of my fatherhood might be out of my hands, but it’s always on me to give my kids my all.