One frustrating aspect of the same-sex marriage debate is that most but not all gays and lesbians take it personally if someone they know believes marriage is between a man and a woman. It’s staggering – they’re the ones wanting to change a longstanding social institution that wasn’t anywhere on the gay agenda until a dozen years ago, yet if someone thinks about it and decides to stick with the old way, the gays and lesbians in their lives go ballistic.
For example, my friend “Paul” told me several months ago that if I get involved in the campaign to pass the California Marriage Protection Act, he would have a hard time staying my friend. Confused, I pointed out that the amendment makes only a semantic difference. Every right of domestic partnerships, which are completely equal to those of married couples, will remain the same. Paul’s response was that I was trying to make him a second-class citizen. Given that same-sex marriage seriously limits my freedom to run my life using my own values instead of his, I had little sympathy that he didn’t like the symbolism. Since I’ve been blogging and publishing opinion pieces on marriage, he thankfully hasn’t stopped being my friend altogether, although he does answer fewer of my E-mails. I think there may be hope for that friendship yet.
That’s not true of “Regina,” who decided several years ago once she realized I not only supported but publicly advocated keeping marriage limited to man-woman couples, that I was now officially “anti-gay” and we were no longer friends. Of course, she never directly told me. But once I found out, I asked her why it was OK for her to cut an Orthodox Jew out of her life for doing what Orthodox Jews do, but not OK for someone to cut a lesbian out of his life because she did what lesbians do. I mean, it’s not like we have a lot of choice here. Orthodox Jews are called upon to oppose gay marriage. Even very pro-gay Orthodox Jews like Rabbi Shmuley Boteach and Sen. Joseph Lieberman (I-CT) oppose gay marriage. It’s who we are. If anyone should be offended, it’s we for the fact that some of our friends are meddling with a crucial societal institution that’s been working effectively for, well, ever. That our sticking to our beliefs would be treated as treason makes me come back to my belief that the gay movement is terribly selfish.
Another example: a top linguist at Berkeley told me that in his several decades’ worth of professional expertise, he was very confident no language lacked different words for mother and father. And then he hastened to ask for confidentiality because he has “some close friends and colleagues who are gay and married to their partners. I’d prefer not to have to explain to them why I’m quoted by someone opposed to gay marriage.”
Let’s consider the implications of that statement. He’s very pro-gay, but he’s also a professional scholar and feels a duty to report the facts of his discipline as he sees them. Yet he doesn’t want his gay friends and colleagues to find out he told the truth because he assumes they will take it personally. This is an academic at the second best university in California! (Yes, I went to Stanford.) Ideally, he’d prefer to feel free to tell the truth, using his name, but he feels constrained because he doesn’t want to betray his gay friends.
Knowing the above, what could we expect if a sociologist or psychiatrist were to stumble across some data that if published would suggest that being gay is a choice or that children should ideally have both a mother and a father? If the data would have made gays look good, she would probably publish it. But knowing the pressures from gays and lesbians who take it personally when a scholar writes the truth that nonetheless makes them look bad, I have to wonder whether she might figure it’s not worth the trouble and bury what she’s found.
Even if only 10 or 20 percent of academics feel that kind of pressure, it seems that the research coming out of universities is unfairly skewed toward gay-friendly findings.
As a Jewish historian, I have often asked my colleagues, “What would you do if you found out the Jews really did kill Jesus?” and “What would you do if you discovered Anne Frank’s diary was a hoax?” Overwhelmingly the answers have been that scholars have a duty to the historical record to publish what they find. (One professor actually said, “The diary is a hoax.” But that’s a story for another day.) And I never met a Jew who would take it personally if a scholar wrote an academic paper critical of Jews in history. (Critical of Israel is another story.)
In an attempt to investigate how widespread this phenomenon is, I wrote 100 academics to ask if they would hesitate to report information they discovered that made gays look bad, but got only a statistically insignificant 7% response rate (as opposed to the 56% response rate I got from linguists). A recognized expert at gay research, Dr. Robert-Jay Green has encouraged me to collect “independently verifiable evidence from professional ethics committees or scientific review boards that researchers have falsified or otherwise distorted their findings on LGBT issues because of external pressures.” I think it’s a great idea, but I’m hardly the person best qualified to perform such a study.
I want to encourage Dr. Green and others involved in gay research to investigate to what extent the attitudes of the Berkeley linguist are widespread, or alternatively to what extent his request for anonymity so his gay friends don’t take his research personally is a fluke.
In the meantime, I will from now on be skeptical and dubious toward every piece of research on gay and lesbian issues that comes out of academia. That includes studies that suggest being gay is inborn, and studies that claim children do just as well with two mothers as they do with both a mother and a father. If those in academia working on gay and lesbian topics can prove that researchers like them have no or next to no pressures to find and report only gay-friendly results, I will be happy to reconsider.