OSC Goes Off the Deep End
I was a stone fan of Orson Scott Card's work in the 80s and 90s. Ender's Game and Speaker for the Dead were two of the best science fiction books I ever encountered: deep, thoughtful, gripping, shocking. They showed insights into human behavior and morality that I hadn't come across before, and I appreciated Card's craft so much that I bought just about everything he'd ever written: the Alvin Maker books, the stand-alone novels like Songmaster and Hart's Hope, the short-story collections like Flux and Cruel Miracles, you name it.
But in the last decade or so, Card has seemed increasingly detached from the humanity he drew so beautifully in his early books, and he has felt it necessary in person, in print, and on the web, in columns, speeches, and interviews, to use his soapbox to condemn homosexuality. At first it was just irritating. I disagreed with his views, but it didn't stop me from appreciating his talents as a writer. (I have the same issues with writers ranging from Karl Marx to P.J. O'Rourke, so it's not limited to anti-gay writers.) Since Card is a practicing Mormon with deep roots in the LDS community, it wasn't exactly a big shock to see him staking out the same position as his church's leadership, but it was a disappointment.
Card's tone, however, grew more strident over the years, and it started sounding at times as though he were parroting right-wing talking points more than expressing original ideas. He wrote a column condemning teachers of evolution, insisting that "intelligent design" belonged in public-school classrooms. For a member of a minority religion to directly challenge the Establishment Clause struck me as not only foolish, but downright hypocritical; for a science-fiction writer to challenge the teaching of science struck me as a kamikaze move toward his career. When a writer I like disagrees with me, I don't usually fret; sometimes, if he presents his argument well, I even change my mind. But when a writer disagrees with me stupidly, I feel as though I've somehow failed: How could I have misjudged this person? That's what bothered me about Card--what if he wasn't as clear a thinker or as keen an observer of humanity as I'd thought? What did that say about my own thinking?
Well, I'm not happy with the answers to those questions, especially now that OSC has gone all in with this column in the Mormon Times. He starts it off with a bold statement to grab our attention--and it's a bold statement that is, how you say, totally bugfuck:
The first and greatest threat from court decisions in California and Massachusetts, giving legal recognition to "gay marriage," is that it marks the end of democracy in America.
By this logic, any judicial decision that recognizes the rights of a minority--including the right of blacks to vote, or the right of Mormons to worship as they see fit--is undemocratic. No, more than that: it's actually the End Of Democracy. In short, Jefferson's declaration that humans have natural rights which may not be violated by the state was in fact the end of democratic rule; we never even got to sample it. This makes Card's fondness for this mythical form of government a bit puzzling, but he goes on:
Marriage is older than government. Its meaning is universal: It is the permanent or semipermanent bond between a man and a woman, establishing responsibilities between the couple and any children that ensue.
Except of course where marriage has involved multiple men, or multiple women, as it has in cultures all over the globe... including in the early history (and some recent history) of the very church to which Card belongs. What more evidence of marriage's non-universal definition does Card need than the fact that the LDS itself has had to forbid its members from entering polygamous marriages?
The laws concerning marriage did not create marriage, they merely attempted to solve problems in such areas as inheritance, property, paternity, divorce, adoption and so on.
What does Card think the laws about GAY marriage are intended to do? They certainly don't dictate who's in love with whom, or who's sleeping with whom. Instead, they attempt to establish who can inherit, who can have power of attorney, who can have custody of children, who can have hospital visitation rights, etc. The entire purpose of laws about marriage is to deal with such civil issues; they do not dictate what churches call marriage, or attempt to dictate to churches who may or may not marry within those faiths. The law does not dictate how spouses treat one another except at the most extreme degree. A husband may not be jailed for cheating on his spouse or failing to do the dishes.
And then there's Card's triumphant conclusion:
Regardless of law, marriage has only one definition, and any government that attempts to change it is my mortal enemy. I will act to destroy that government and bring it down, so it can be replaced with a government that will respect and support marriage, and help me raise my children in a society where they will expect to marry in their turn.
In short: "I would rather destroy the Constitution and the rights it protects than allow it to protect the marriage rights of homosexuals." A face could not be more spited than Card's, a nose could not be in more imminent danger.
I've been depressed by what I have long viewed as Card's collapse into bigotry. Now I'm thinking it's more of a flying leap into wingnuttery, one as spectacular as an Acapulco cliff dive. I just hope he likes the water down there. I won't be joining him.
But in the last decade or so, Card has seemed increasingly detached from the humanity he drew so beautifully in his early books, and he has felt it necessary in person, in print, and on the web, in columns, speeches, and interviews, to use his soapbox to condemn homosexuality. At first it was just irritating. I disagreed with his views, but it didn't stop me from appreciating his talents as a writer. (I have the same issues with writers ranging from Karl Marx to P.J. O'Rourke, so it's not limited to anti-gay writers.) Since Card is a practicing Mormon with deep roots in the LDS community, it wasn't exactly a big shock to see him staking out the same position as his church's leadership, but it was a disappointment.
Card's tone, however, grew more strident over the years, and it started sounding at times as though he were parroting right-wing talking points more than expressing original ideas. He wrote a column condemning teachers of evolution, insisting that "intelligent design" belonged in public-school classrooms. For a member of a minority religion to directly challenge the Establishment Clause struck me as not only foolish, but downright hypocritical; for a science-fiction writer to challenge the teaching of science struck me as a kamikaze move toward his career. When a writer I like disagrees with me, I don't usually fret; sometimes, if he presents his argument well, I even change my mind. But when a writer disagrees with me stupidly, I feel as though I've somehow failed: How could I have misjudged this person? That's what bothered me about Card--what if he wasn't as clear a thinker or as keen an observer of humanity as I'd thought? What did that say about my own thinking?
Well, I'm not happy with the answers to those questions, especially now that OSC has gone all in with this column in the Mormon Times. He starts it off with a bold statement to grab our attention--and it's a bold statement that is, how you say, totally bugfuck:
The first and greatest threat from court decisions in California and Massachusetts, giving legal recognition to "gay marriage," is that it marks the end of democracy in America.
By this logic, any judicial decision that recognizes the rights of a minority--including the right of blacks to vote, or the right of Mormons to worship as they see fit--is undemocratic. No, more than that: it's actually the End Of Democracy. In short, Jefferson's declaration that humans have natural rights which may not be violated by the state was in fact the end of democratic rule; we never even got to sample it. This makes Card's fondness for this mythical form of government a bit puzzling, but he goes on:
Marriage is older than government. Its meaning is universal: It is the permanent or semipermanent bond between a man and a woman, establishing responsibilities between the couple and any children that ensue.
Except of course where marriage has involved multiple men, or multiple women, as it has in cultures all over the globe... including in the early history (and some recent history) of the very church to which Card belongs. What more evidence of marriage's non-universal definition does Card need than the fact that the LDS itself has had to forbid its members from entering polygamous marriages?
The laws concerning marriage did not create marriage, they merely attempted to solve problems in such areas as inheritance, property, paternity, divorce, adoption and so on.
What does Card think the laws about GAY marriage are intended to do? They certainly don't dictate who's in love with whom, or who's sleeping with whom. Instead, they attempt to establish who can inherit, who can have power of attorney, who can have custody of children, who can have hospital visitation rights, etc. The entire purpose of laws about marriage is to deal with such civil issues; they do not dictate what churches call marriage, or attempt to dictate to churches who may or may not marry within those faiths. The law does not dictate how spouses treat one another except at the most extreme degree. A husband may not be jailed for cheating on his spouse or failing to do the dishes.
And then there's Card's triumphant conclusion:
Regardless of law, marriage has only one definition, and any government that attempts to change it is my mortal enemy. I will act to destroy that government and bring it down, so it can be replaced with a government that will respect and support marriage, and help me raise my children in a society where they will expect to marry in their turn.
In short: "I would rather destroy the Constitution and the rights it protects than allow it to protect the marriage rights of homosexuals." A face could not be more spited than Card's, a nose could not be in more imminent danger.
I've been depressed by what I have long viewed as Card's collapse into bigotry. Now I'm thinking it's more of a flying leap into wingnuttery, one as spectacular as an Acapulco cliff dive. I just hope he likes the water down there. I won't be joining him.