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My favorite author, my worst interview | page 1, 2, 3, 4
In journalism, silence about one's own opinion is often the only way to get the goods. Actually, that's partly why I chose this profession -- it offers a great deal of opportunity for not protesting, not fighting back, for hiding. Is it somehow familiar or comforting for me to endure the calumny of bigots and do nothing? I prefer to get my digs in when I write the piece up, like this. It's a way of fighting back without ever having to face my tormentor head-on. But during the actual interview, I get very nervous at this point and change the subject. (Or perhaps more accurately, I ask the very same question, but in a covert form so that Card will have no idea I'm really making reference to him and his homophobia.) I ask: "Why is Bean so much less ethically concerned than Ender? He's only worried about betraying his friends. He has no compunction about killing his enemies." Says Card, "He simply grew up without being able to afford introspection. When you have kids in a street gang, they consider their actions to be noble if they act in a way that serves the street gang. Members of the homosexual community consider themselves to be noble when they indulge in shameless name-calling and distorted positions of people who oppose them, because they believe they're serving their higher cause. But Bean is ethical to somebody who's in his own community while being very unethical to somebody who doesn't belong to that community. " He must have the homophobe's version of Tourette's syndrome. I say, "These questions about how to approach your enemies, about what kind of bad things it's appropriate to do to your enemies, are precisely Christian questions." I don't tell Card this, but Jesus' perverse ideal of loving one's enemy is precisely what I like most about Christianity, and why I make the effort to seek out common ground with Christians at all. He yaps, "In our culture today, there are a lot of people who use the fundamental Christian doctrine -- to love your neighbor, to forgive all men -- only as a weapon to silence Christians! The effort to hold Christians to this particular standard is very unfair." What an asshole. I'm trying to praise Christianity; in fact I'm trying to be Christian as he would understand the term, and all he can see is an attack. "I was actually asking in terms of Bean. Where does class come into it? The most interesting difference between the two books for me was that Bean, who was raised in poverty, is much less concerned with the radical ethical questions Ender cares about. I wondered how true to life that was." He utterly and completely misunderstands what I mean by "radical," because by now he's apparently seeing me as a lesbo-loving communist bimbo. "It is absolutely true to life. You will find among the great activists for the communist cause precious few workers, precious few poor people. It's the same thing you found in the civil rights movement. It's the middle class that feels the luxury of being able to have causes. Applying the idea of class to everything is just one of the many mistakes of the religion of Marxism." This can't go on much longer, but I'll give it the ol' lesbo communist try. "Are any aspects of the two books particularly Mormon?" "Not really, except in the sense that they're written by me and I'm a committed, believing Mormon. There are Mormons who think I'm the devil because they're unable to tell the difference between Mormon doctrine and right-wing conservative views. And I find it extremely discomfiting that, really to a shocking degree, love of money has pervaded Mormon society. It's something that as a people we have great cause to repent of. I think it will lead to our condemnation in the eyes of God. When I talk that way, there are some people who are extremely troubled because they think I'm saying that they're wicked. And they're correct -- I am." I love this. Beyond anything, it amuses me to see how much I love Card calling something "wicked" when it's a judgment that I happen to agree with. But I need to go back to the fray. "Aren't there some Mormons who agree that gay people should have protection from discrimination?" I know there are because I read a whole book about them. He's delighted to get back to battle, too. "We have laws right now that protect anybody from violent acts. But I do not believe homosexuals should be given a whole raft of rights analogous to what blacks have." "You mean laws that say you can't be fired because you're gay?" That's exactly what he means. "I think there are a lot of reasons people should be able to be fired. It should be perfectly legitimate to fire somebody for that reason or reasons like it. But I would find it appalling to fire people from most positions because of it." My hand curls in a fist next to my writing pad. He adds, "My views on the program of homosexual activists are part of a much larger struggle to get rid of some of the social experiments we've been performing. Divorce, the treatment of the poor, rate --" "Rape?" I get excited, thinking I have just discovered another good thing about Card. He thinks rape is a serious issue. "I said rate. Those issues rate far, far higher for me." "Oh. I thought you were talking about the need to fight rape." Card is amused. "Well, it's already against the law. I don't think there's a serious pro-rape movement going on in America." "No," I say. "There just isn't much anti." He starts to get patronizing, even flirtatious. "Oh, now, now!" he chides gently. I can hear a smile in his voice, a twinkle in his eye. "Anti-rape laws are so much more strictly enforced now than they were 25 years ago." His playful, patronizing tone makes me queasy. "I know there isn't a serious pro-rape movement in America," I reply far too politely. "But it still goes on. Obviously we're not doing enough to prevent it." "What can you do," he laughs, "except find people who can't be proven to have committed a rape, and punish them anyway? Let's bring back chaperonage. That's the best way to prevent rape!" "Are you being serious?" "Oh, I'm quite serious. There's a reason why the whole system of chaperonage began." I am trying so valiantly to be bigger and better than Card. It's excruciating. Like Ender, I really am afraid that if I ever really unleash my anger, it'll blow up the world. But another reason I hold back is my genuine respect for the author of "Ender's Game." It's hard to speak in a sufficiently hostile way to the man who wrote it, even if he is a pig. (Although, if this ever happens again, I'll try to find a way.) In the end, I talk to him the way I might address someone with a really low I.Q. "One of the reasons I respect your work is that you're really, really concerned with ethics. The foundation of all ethics, for me, is always whether something hurts anyone. For that reason, it puzzles me that you would see something like homosexuality as wrong, when it patently doesn't hurt anyone." "I'm amused that you think it doesn't hurt anyone. The homosexuals that I've known well, I have found none who were actually made happier by performing homosexual acts. Or by withdrawing, which is what they do, from the mainline of human life. The separation is there and is, in fact, celebrated within the homosexual community." Why would we ever want to withdraw when there are people like him to be close to? "When you talk about separating oneself from the mainstream, don't some people feel that way about Mormons?" "I'm talking about the mainstream of biological life. Mormons don't withdraw from life." I fantasize about pressing a button that makes my space fleet blast Card into tiny fragments whose DNA will never bother me again. (After all, I am, according to him, someone who opposes "biological life.") But in reality, contradictions are what I love most in the world (and I intend to keep on loving them), so I end the interview with a sweetness that later makes me cringe and pick up "Ender's Game," discover it's still good, and wish the man a very lousy rest of his life.
- - - - - - - - - - - - Sound off Related Salon stories Russell, Aaron and me What no one will admit about the Matthew Shepard killing is that it was about love as well as rage.
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