Tolerance

My wife and I watched a televised movie last night.  The subject of the 1987 film was the harsh realities faced by gay lovers a century ago.  In this case, the "scene of the crime" was jolly olde England and the players were of that class of young aristocrats who went off to Oxford and Cambridge, some already called "lords" and most already adept at pontificating on many erudite matters.  These were privileged fellows whose futures were not in any peril from without; their families owned land and they were heirs to large fortunes, assumed to become men of weighty influence in society.

The two star protagonists were innocent boy-men who found in each other more fundamental interest and excitement than either could see in females.  Their accumulating commonalities only increased their deep feelings for each other during their years of sharing close quarters and activities while in the colleges.  Upon receipt of diplomas and acceptance into their rightful positions in law and finance, respectively, they maintained the old college-chum demeanor in the eyes of family and all who knew them, but they seethed with suppressed desire for each other.  In rare moments of total privacy they confessed profound love for one another, but they cautiously avoided showing this unspeakable corruption in the presence of others.  They also, owing to the intense fear on the part of one of the pair, managed to keep their love on the emotional level and never allowed the physical fulfilment to progress beyond the infrequent stealthy kiss.

A noted friend and schoolmate of the pair had been accused and convicted of moral corruption and of encouraging this sin among members of his inferiors (the working class).  He was sentenced to six months imprisonment with hard labor, and told in a terse, matter-of-fact statement from the presiding judge that he would be disbarred and had already lost all hope of a political career he was sure to have enjoyed.

Only a movie, right?

Naturally, dramatic license is taken with any subject of a film, but as to the realistic depth of the subject at hand, it was probably handled with care and kept close to the original story of real events.  A hundred years on, we don't any longer send gay people to prison for revealing their desire for others of the same sex.  And the western world doesn't t kill homosexuals as some societies still do.  But do we actually show tolerance?

Generally, I have eschewed the term "tolerance" because of its connotation of judgment.  The context seemed to be that decent people are put upon to tolerate someone who is not desirable among us or who has shown himself less than totally respectable.

This morning I had to look up Webster's definition of the word.  The first meaning of tolerate is "allow or permit," which I would think falls into a scenario such as this: a horse owner boards a fine horse but seldom goes riding, therefore expects a groomer to take care of the horse.  He finds that the hired hand is bringing a date out to ride at least once every week without permission, but since it's good for the horse to be exercised, the owner "tolerates" this behavior.

The second meaning of tolerate (where ownership, therefore "permission," is not involved), is "to recognize and respect without necessarily agreeing." [Emphasis mine]  And I go back to my earlier comment.  The meaning had seemed to me to be a forced acceptance of something undesirable, and that's basically the meaning tacitly understood by society even in today's "enlightened" world of the twenty-first century. 

My neighborhood grudgingly accepts the clearly undesirable gay couple next door to me.  There is no respect for them nor even recognition of their marriage, save from my wife and me and perhaps someone whose gracious tolerance we don't yet know.  I have to field many snide remarks and cruel barbs hurled at the two elderly gentlemen by cowardly critics.  Due to my proximity to the offensive couple, others assume I am the most onerously confronted by their disgraceful way of life.  The shallow religious bigots all around me like to think I am one of them and therefore I would naturally be unhappy that I'm forced to live near the undesirables.  In fact, though these two particular gay men are not the neat and tidy types we typically see and appreciate for their uncanny ability to raise property values in Palm Springs, they are okay people and good neighbors.  They are far less offensive to me in most every way than are the aforementioned good people of my little village. 

So I must accept the sad truth that for many years ahead, in order to prevent becoming an offense myself I will need to walk that fine line of quiet neutrality.  The simple act of making a strong defense of my decent near neighbors would offend the many, and if I were to join in the crude jokes and ignorant laughter offered by the many, I would offend myself, my next-door friends and the whole cosmos.  Oh, if some specific need were to arise in which my gay friends needed my protection, I would accept the mantle of social pariah in my neighborhood in order to do the right thing.  But for now, it behooves me to avoid over-reacting, to simply respect these two men quietly and avoid jumping onto a soapbox to try to convince the good people around us that ignorance and hate need to fall away eventually into the distant past.

This is my treatise today on gay-bashing, on the lack of tolerance and the general misunderstanding and misuse of the word.    Racism will have to await another diatribe!