Forty years ago, on the eve of his assassination, Martin Luther King gave one of his most memorable speeches. He told his followers that he had been “to the mountain top” and “seen the promised land” of racial justice in America. Understandably, many have seen the election of Barack Obama as a fulfilment of King’s prophecy. Given the relative closeness of the two events, some have even argued that America’s progress towards the realization of its founders’ dreams has, if anything, gathered momentum in recent decades. But another political killing, ten years after Dr King’s death, offers a striking contrast to this hopeful reading of modern American history, one that suggests that social change can never be achieved by a single political figure, however inspirational.
As the city of San Francisco tried to come to terms with the horrors of the Jonestown suicide in November 1978, it learned of the murders of Mayor George Moscone and Councillor Harvey Milk, shot to death at close range by Dan White, a former colleague. Both were deeply mourned by their constituents, but the loss of Milk was considered to be more than a local tragedy. In Milk’s time, American politics had not yet become the circus of infotainment – “showbiz for ugly people,” as one wag puts it – that it is today. Even in liberal San Francisco, it had taken enormous moral courage for him − a reticent camera store owner with no “political experience” −- to run for public office without hiding the fact that he was homosexual.
During Milk’s groundbreaking campaign, it became clear that he was a born leader. Charming, soft-spoken, and disarmingly “ordinary” − to the frustration of all who tried to demonise him − he helped to lead a generation of gay Americans out of their private hells. He urged them to talk honestly about their sexuality, to show friends and families that it made them no different, to bear witness to the fact that their daily lives were remarkably similar to everyone else’s. Milk’s candour undermined a great deal of contemporary homophobia and his public career was a landmark for gay rights in America. His political success showed that the American public was far more tolerant than conservatives dared believe. Like Obama, he was elected as an agent of change, someone who understood the political machine but was too bright and sophisticated to be trammelled by its clichés. His election to the city council was a transformative moment in American culture. In 1984, The Times of Harvey Milk, a moving film about his life and career, won an Oscar for best documentary. A fortnight ago, a more ambitious Hollywood biopic, with Oscar-winner Sean Penn in the title role, was released to critical acclaim.
Milk would be flattered by the attention, but disappointed by recent political developments. During the same election that brought Obama into office, ballot initiatives that sought to place same-sex unions on an equal footing with traditional marriage were defeated in California, Florida, Arizona and Arkansas. The fiercest battle seems to have been over Proposition 8 in California, a predominantly ‘blue’ state that most conservatives had expected to lose. At first, the mainstream press extrapolated, from exit polls, that the measure had passed because of a heavy turnout by black voters − who approved of a ban on same-sex marriage, by landslide margins − but subsequent analysis has laid more emphasis on the funding drives by various religious groups who opposed the amendment. (The Los Angeles Times reports that the Mormons may have donated more than 20 of the 36 million dollars that Prop. 8 advocates used to fund their campaign.) Either way, November has taught gay activists that the US culture wars are far from over. Already there are signs of a new intolerance: Bill O’Reilly and Newt Gingrich recently referred to gay protesters as “fascists” and other elements of the Christian right, emboldened by their victories with the ballot initiatives, are no doubt gearing up for similar rhetorical excess. Gay marriage – one of Karl Rove’s favourite “wedge issues” – is still red meat for the fearmongers in red America.
Further afield there are similar quarrels. A few days ago the Vatican was roundly condemned by gay activists all over the world for its decision to oppose a European Union proposal at the UN that would decriminalise homosexuality. (Currently homosexuality is illegal in more than 80 countries punishable by death in places like Iran and Afghanistan.) A Vatican spokesman recently conceded that “no-one wants the death penalty or jail or fines for homosexuals” but upheld the Holy See’s resistance to decriminalisation. The Anglican Church has virtually split over the issue of gay clergy and there are few hopeful signs that a workable compromise is forthcoming.
Religion and politics are a dangerous mix at the best of times, so it is hardly surprising that on questions of human sexuality there should be far more heat than light. This dynamic can only be changed by individuals who confound the stereotype. Harvey Milk achieved his success in far more homophobic times because he was a remarkable person, bright, generous, capable and utterly at ease with himself.
One public official like that is worth a dozen ballot initiatives. Today, there are prominent homosexuals in all walks of American life and the gay and lesbian community have learned how to organise and represent themselves far more effectively – especially after the government’s half-hearted response to the AIDS epidemic. Their response to recent setbacks will soon show how well they have learned how to out-manoeuvre their political rivals.
What makes the current impasse in the US so compelling is that it is likely to have global repercussions. President-elect Obama recently observed that America’s “destiny is shared with the world’s. From our markets to our security; from our public health to our climate – we must act with the understanding that, now more than ever, we have a stake in what happens across the globe.” This is especially true when it comes to gay rights. With regard to the politics of same-sex marriage and civil rights for embattled minorities, Obama will bring a great deal more life experience than his predecessor, but it remains an open question whether he, or anyone else, can negotiate anything more than a temporary ceasefire in a debate that stirs such deep-seated and apparently irreconcilable passions.
