By: Paul S. Marchand
This morning, after eighteen years of “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell,” and after a dozen years of its predecessor, the so-called 123 Words (which began with a ringing declaration that “homosexuality is incompatible with military service,”) the United States finally joined the many other nations that permit LGBT persons to serve openly in their Armed Forces.
GLBT Americans can now serve without lies or concealment, as can their counterparts in the Armed Forces of such nations as the United Kingdom, Israel, Australia, and twoscore others.
For LGBT veterans, the end of the ban on open service has been a a not unmixed vindication, a belated acknowledgment of the integrity of their service to a nation that was happy to send them into harm’s way, but only at the price of constraining them to fearful silence about the most integral aspect of their personhood.
For those of us who were deterred from pursuing a vocation to service in the Armed Forces -in my case, in the United States Navy- today marks a day of “what ifs.” Some deterred applicants -those still young enough to serve- may well seek to pursue their callings. For those of whose time to serve has passed, the moment is more bittersweet. What if we had stuck it out? What if we had been willing to accept the silence our service would have imposed upon us? As Winston Churchill once wrote in The World Crisis, “the terrible Ifs accumulate.”
But for those on active duty, or those who feel a vocation to service, today marks the first day in which their service need no longer conflict with their integral sense of self. In a prior post, I observed that the interpersonal culture of the American military places a premium on truth-telling; the end of DADT resolves the conflict between that all-important virtue of truth-telling and the heretofore critical necessity of remaining closeted in order to serve.
Today, the gay 17 year old pursuing service through Navy ROTC can do so knowing that he won’t be confronted with the 123 Words, as I was at 17 when I walked away from an opportunity for a full ride three-and-a-half year NROTC scholarship rather than live a lie that I had no confidence in my ability to sustain. Today, a motivated lesbian can find a place in the Armed Forces without having to pay attention to the pronouns she uses about her girlfriend lest she fall afoul of DADT.
Of course, on this day when we celebrate the lifting of the ban on our ability to make war and be cannon fodder alongside our straight fellow citizens, I am not unmindful of the irony inherent in the fact that obtaining an equal right to participate as out people in military hostilities should be such a landmark advance for GLBT civil rights. Nonetheless, as I observed at the time the Senate’s cloture vote opened the way to DADT repeal, the fact remains that in a society such as ours, participation in military service remains in many ways a critical index of first-class citizenship.
If there has been any silver lining in the long struggle to lift the ban, it has been that we have before us the example of more than 40 other countries’ experiences with open LGBT service in their Armed Forces. The experiences of our allies in particular have demonstrated that the parades of horribles envisaged by supporters of the ban have simply not materialized. If Her Majesty’s Armed Forces in the U.K., or the Israel Defense Forces can integrate, so can we.
Withal, the world hasn’t ended today, the West hasn’t gone into a sudden, headlong decline today, and America hasn’t collapsed today by allowing homosexuals to serve openly alongside their straight fellow citizens. In due course, perhaps, the example of queerfolk serving openly and honorably in our Armed Forces will help lay the groundwork for that good day when marriage equality becomes a reality: when Ruth and Naomi, or Jonathan and David, will be able to come home from active service to have their marriages recognized throughout the length and breadth of this great nation.
My mouth to God’s ear.
This morning, after eighteen years of “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell,” and after a dozen years of its predecessor, the so-called 123 Words (which began with a ringing declaration that “homosexuality is incompatible with military service,”) the United States finally joined the many other nations that permit LGBT persons to serve openly in their Armed Forces.
GLBT Americans can now serve without lies or concealment, as can their counterparts in the Armed Forces of such nations as the United Kingdom, Israel, Australia, and twoscore others.
For LGBT veterans, the end of the ban on open service has been a a not unmixed vindication, a belated acknowledgment of the integrity of their service to a nation that was happy to send them into harm’s way, but only at the price of constraining them to fearful silence about the most integral aspect of their personhood.
For those of us who were deterred from pursuing a vocation to service in the Armed Forces -in my case, in the United States Navy- today marks a day of “what ifs.” Some deterred applicants -those still young enough to serve- may well seek to pursue their callings. For those of whose time to serve has passed, the moment is more bittersweet. What if we had stuck it out? What if we had been willing to accept the silence our service would have imposed upon us? As Winston Churchill once wrote in The World Crisis, “the terrible Ifs accumulate.”
But for those on active duty, or those who feel a vocation to service, today marks the first day in which their service need no longer conflict with their integral sense of self. In a prior post, I observed that the interpersonal culture of the American military places a premium on truth-telling; the end of DADT resolves the conflict between that all-important virtue of truth-telling and the heretofore critical necessity of remaining closeted in order to serve.
Today, the gay 17 year old pursuing service through Navy ROTC can do so knowing that he won’t be confronted with the 123 Words, as I was at 17 when I walked away from an opportunity for a full ride three-and-a-half year NROTC scholarship rather than live a lie that I had no confidence in my ability to sustain. Today, a motivated lesbian can find a place in the Armed Forces without having to pay attention to the pronouns she uses about her girlfriend lest she fall afoul of DADT.
Of course, on this day when we celebrate the lifting of the ban on our ability to make war and be cannon fodder alongside our straight fellow citizens, I am not unmindful of the irony inherent in the fact that obtaining an equal right to participate as out people in military hostilities should be such a landmark advance for GLBT civil rights. Nonetheless, as I observed at the time the Senate’s cloture vote opened the way to DADT repeal, the fact remains that in a society such as ours, participation in military service remains in many ways a critical index of first-class citizenship.
If there has been any silver lining in the long struggle to lift the ban, it has been that we have before us the example of more than 40 other countries’ experiences with open LGBT service in their Armed Forces. The experiences of our allies in particular have demonstrated that the parades of horribles envisaged by supporters of the ban have simply not materialized. If Her Majesty’s Armed Forces in the U.K., or the Israel Defense Forces can integrate, so can we.
Withal, the world hasn’t ended today, the West hasn’t gone into a sudden, headlong decline today, and America hasn’t collapsed today by allowing homosexuals to serve openly alongside their straight fellow citizens. In due course, perhaps, the example of queerfolk serving openly and honorably in our Armed Forces will help lay the groundwork for that good day when marriage equality becomes a reality: when Ruth and Naomi, or Jonathan and David, will be able to come home from active service to have their marriages recognized throughout the length and breadth of this great nation.
My mouth to God’s ear.
-xxx-
PAUL S. MARCHAND is an attorney. He lives and works in Cathedral City, California, where he served eight years as a city councilman. He is currently a member of the Riverside County Workforce Investment Board. He was one of the first openly gay councilmembers in Cathedral City’s history, and was also one of the first California attorneys to litigate a same-gender marriage case, back in 1993, when it wasn’t on most people’s radar. The views expressed herein are his own, and are not necessarily the views of the Riverside County Workforce Investment Board, or of any other entity, board, or commission with which he is associated.
