Daddy Issues, but Make Them Authoritarian
How Christianity and control freak politics turned unresolved family trauma into a national pastime
Filed under: faith, fear, and the fathers we didn’t ask for
Introduction: Daddy Knows Best (Or So We’re Told)
You can dress authoritarianism in any outfit you want—pinstripes, camouflage, or clerical robes—but under it all, it’s just daddy issues on parade. Whole nations bend the knee not because they’ve been persuaded by dazzling logic, but because they’ve been raised to crave a strict father who will make the scary world simple.
This isn’t me being metaphorical. Authoritarian politics is literally a family drama scaled up: insecure children looking for Dad’s approval, terrified of disappointing him, and convinced that being spanked is the same as being loved. Christianity just perfected the script long before Trump or any wannabe strongman put it on a campaign poster.
And the punchline? Half the people performing this obedience theater would throw a tantrum if you ever said they had daddy issues. Which is exactly how you know they do.
Part I: The Heavenly Father as Ultimate Dad
Christianity is, at its core, the most successful father-branding campaign in world history. Think of the audacity: some desert prophets two millennia ago said, “God isn’t just God—He’s Dad,” and billions of people since then have willingly projected their unresolved family wounds onto the clouds. Forget Coca-Cola’s polar bears. Forget Apple’s sleek gadgets. “Our Father, who art in heaven” is the longest-running PR slogan ever written.
And the theology? Pure toxic-dad playbook:
You’re born wrong. (“You’ll never be good enough on your own.”)
Dad sacrificed His son. (“Look what I did for you—don’t waste it.”)
Love is conditional. (“Obey or else.”)
Disobedience means eternal grounding—in fire.
This is not divine wisdom. This is intergenerational gaslighting marketed as salvation. Christianity is basically, “Attachment Disorder: The Religion.”
It shouldn’t shock anyone, then, that societies saturated with this narrative keep reproducing authoritarian politics. If your first relationship with authority was Heavenly Father, you learned early that power = fear, obedience = love, and questioning = sin. That’s not faith. That’s indoctrination.
Part II: How Daddy Issues Become Politics
Here’s the dirty little secret of authoritarianism: it doesn’t spread because it’s persuasive. It spreads because it’s familiar.
When you grow up with a father who confuses control with love, the whole world starts to look like a place where obedience feels safe. So when someone like Trump shows up on stage saying, “Only I can fix it,” the wound recognizes the wound. It’s not politics—it’s projection.
The authoritarian follower is basically a neglected kid clinging to the meanest parent because at least the rules are clear.
The authoritarian leader is a failed son who cosplays as Father, desperate to project dominance so no one sees the terrified child underneath.
The dance is symbiotic. One side craves punishment; the other craves worship. Neither side grows up.
And honestly? Half the rallies could be replaced with group therapy sessions where people just admit they’re still trying to impress Dad. But that would require vulnerability, and authoritarianism thrives on avoiding that at all costs.
Part III: Christianity’s Nesting Doll of Submission
Christianity doesn’t merely allow submission. It industrializes it.
Husbands over wives.
Parents over children.
Pastors over congregations.
God over everyone.
It’s hierarchy as holy design: an endless stack of “fathers” making sure no one escapes the cycle.
Men who never healed their childhood wounds project Father God onto themselves and play dictator at home. Women raised to believe suffering is holy perform martyrdom like it’s a badge of honor. (“Look at all I endure in silence!”) Children grow up thinking unconditional love means never questioning authority.
This blueprint doesn’t stop at the church door. It marches straight into politics: “Obey your leaders, don’t question authority, suffering is patriotic, dissent is treason.”
Christianity didn’t just make authoritarianism possible. It rehearsed generations for it.
Part IV: Daddy’s Girl, Daddy’s Nation
Now, let’s talk gender. Because while daddy issues aren’t exclusive to women, authoritarian culture has a special way of scripting them.
Men with unresolved father wounds want to dominate. They want to be Dad.
Women with unresolved father wounds want to submit. They want to please Dad.
And authoritarianism offers them both exactly what they crave.
The men cosplay authority on a national stage: governors, pastors, presidents. The women clutch their Bibles and swear they’re not oppressed while raising the next generation of obedient subjects. It’s the same audition tape over and over: “Look, Father, I’m good. I follow the rules. Don’t abandon me.”
This is why the loudest women in these spaces—“I’m not oppressed! I’m blessed!”—sound like they’re trying to convince themselves. They’ve confused martyrdom for meaning. They clutch their chains and call it freedom.
And then they get online in Trump pajamas to make TikToks about “strong men” while accidentally screaming, “Please validate my trauma.”
Part V: The Daddy Kink Nobody Wants to Admit
Let’s quit tiptoeing: authoritarian politics is a daddy kink with no safe word.
Followers eroticize submission. They want to be lectured, scolded, and “kept in line.” They seek humiliation because it feels safe. Being punished means Dad still cares enough to notice.
The authoritarian leader plays his side of the kink: dominance theater. The rally rant is just a national-scale scolding session. “You’ve been naughty. Only I can fix you.” Cue the cheers.
The irony? These same people call themselves “free.” But freedom terrifies them. Freedom means therapy. Freedom means holding yourself accountable. Freedom means growing up and admitting Dad was never perfect. And that’s scarier than hell itself.
So instead they cling to their authoritarian daddy-doms and call it patriotism.
Part VI: Martyrdom as Virtue Signaling
Here’s where it gets especially petty: the virtue signaling of authoritarian Christianity isn’t about virtue at all. It’s about being the loudest victim in the room.
Think about it:
“Look how much I sacrifice for my family.”
“Look how I suffer silently for my husband.”
“Look how I’m persecuted for my faith.”
It’s all one big Instagram filter over daddy issues. These people aren’t holy—they’re auditioning. Martyrdom gives them identity. Virtue signaling gives them purpose.
Meanwhile, anyone pointing out the obvious—like, say, me—is branded “hateful,” “delusional,” or “demonic.” Translation: they hate when the spotlight shifts from their performance of suffering to the actual systems making them miserable.
Part VII: The House Always Wins
The brilliance (and cruelty) of authoritarian daddy issues is that they create a self-sustaining loop:
Obedience feels safe.
Safety feels holy.
Holiness feels patriotic.
Repeat until collapse.
Fathers raise children who seek fathers. Churches rehearse submission until dissent feels like sin. Politicians weaponize obedience until tyranny feels like tradition.
The only wrench in the machine? People who grow up. People who finally notice:
Dad wasn’t always right.
Dad’s love was conditional.
Dad used control to mask fear.
Maybe “God the Father” was just a metaphor we outgrew.
Once you stop worshiping Dad, authoritarian politics stop making sense.
Conclusion: It’s Time to Break Up with Your Father
Authoritarianism is just daddy issues with a ballot box. Christianity is daddy issues with hymns. Patriarchy is daddy issues enshrined in law.
If that stings, good. It should. Because the only way out is through: face the wound, stop projecting it onto ballots and pulpits, and admit you don’t need a father to be whole.
Love and control are not synonyms. Obedience is not virtue. And no politician deserves your childhood trauma as their campaign fuel.
It’s not faith. It’s not patriotism. It’s not tradition.
It’s a wound crying out for therapy.
Until people face that wound, they’ll keep mistaking punishment for salvation, submission for freedom, and authoritarianism for love.
And I promise you this: God doesn’t need to be Dad, and Trump sure as hell isn’t.
Call to Action
If this essay bruised your ego, congratulations—you found the sore spot.
📢 Share it with someone who mistakes obedience for love.
💌 Subscribe for more essays at the crossroads of politics, culture, and irreverent therapy.
🔥 And for the love of God (the non-dad version), stop handing the car keys to Daddy.
Delivered without submission,
—Rebecca M. Bell
rmbellwrites.com
P.S. The sky is empty,
and still they kneel.
I stopped waiting,
and found my legs.
Filed under: faith, fear, and the fathers we didn’t ask for