Advance Praise for Unfriendly Fire
“Frank has written a fascinating account of the men and women, the motivations and the passions, surrounding the ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ policy. Others have chronicled the efforts of advocates of gay service, but Frank delves into the minds, motivations, and strategies of those who sought to maintain the ban, providing a compelling indictment of the merits of their position. The heart-wrenching stories of those who failed to survive under the ban, which Frank captures with both art and integrity, provide the ultimate indictment of a flawed policy and practice.”
—Chai Feldblum,
professor of law at Georgetown University
“Nathaniel Frank has written the definitive text on the ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ policy. His treatise is elegant not only in its detailed historical accuracy, but in its poignant description of the impact of the current law on individual gay and lesbian service members.”
—Rear Admiral Alan M. Steinman, USPHS/USCG (Ret.)
“Thanks to Nathaniel Frank’s rigorous, precise, and insightful research, we now understand the true costs of ‘don’t ask, don’t tell.’ ”
— Johnny Symons,
Emmy-nominated filmmaker,
Ask Not and Daddy & Papa
“Nathaniel Frank has written an astonishing tale of ‘don’t ask, don’t tell.’ No other book reaches as far, or as deep, to explain the origins and consequences of this misguided policy.”
—Elizabeth L. Hillman,
professor of law at University of California Hastings College
of the Law and former U.S. Air Force Captain
“No intellectually honest American general or flag officer can read Unfriendly Fire and continue to support the failed ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ policy.”
—Major General Dennis Laich,
U.S. Army (Ret.)
“Nathaniel Frank’s indictment of the U.S. military’s efforts to bar gays and lesbians from serving in the country’s armed forces—better known as ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’—is searing and persuasive. Unfriendly Fire peels away the falsehoods to reveal that at its core the policy has nothing to do with safeguarding military effectiveness and preserving unit cohesion, as its proponents insist.”
—Professor Coit D. Blacker,
director of the Freeman Spogli Institute for International Studies,
Stanford University
UNFRIENDLY
FIRE
UNFRIENDLY
FIRE
HOW THE GAY BAN
UNDERMINES THE MILITARY
AND WEAKENS AMERICA
NATHANIEL FRANK
THOMAS DUNNE BOOKS NEW YORK
ST. MARTIN’S PRESS
THOMAS DUNNE BOOKS.
An imprint of St. Martin’s Press.
UNFRIENDLY FIRE. Copyright © 2009 by Nathaniel Frank.
All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America.
For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York,
N.Y. 10010.
www.thomasdunnebooks.com
www.stmartins.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Frank, Nathaniel.
Unfriendly fire: how the gay ban undermines the military and weakens America / Nathaniel Frank.—1st ed.
p. cm.
ISBN-13: 978-0-312-37348-1
ISBN-10: 0-312-37348-1
1. Gays in the military—Government policy—United States. 2. Gays in the military—United States. I. Title.
UB418.G38 F73 2009
355.0086'640973—dc22
2008035886
First Edition: March 2009
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Make us to choose the harder right instead of the easier wrong, and never to be content with a half truth when the whole truth can be won.
—Cadet prayer, United States Military Academy at West Point
CONTENTS
Acknowledgments
A Note on Terms
Prologue
1. The Long History of the Military Closet
2. Christian Soldiers: The Morality of Being Gay
3. The Powell-Nunn Alliance
4. Listening to Nunn: The Congressional Hearings on Gay Service
5. The Evidence
6. Gays in Foreign Militaries
7. “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” Don’t Work
8. A Flawed Policy at Its Core
9. Brain Drain: Arabic Linguists
10. Gays Out, Ex-convicts In
11. Rainbow Warriors
Epilogue
Notes
Index
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
THIS BOOK HAS been a collective project in the best sense a writer could ever imagine. The Palm Center at the University of California, Santa Barbara, fostered a community of supportive scholars who were dedicated to making their—and one another’s—work see the light of day instead of collecting dust in university archives. I thank the Palm Center for its humanity and its intellectual and financial support, and for its flexibility, especially during the months that I was given extra time to work on the book.
I owe an unpayable debt of gratitude to Palm’s founder and director, Aaron Belkin, who literally plucked me from academic obscurity and helped me cultivate a life doing what I love—engaging with ideas that matter. His selflessness, work ethic, patience, and friendship mean the world to me and have been constant sources of support, without which this book would probably not have been completed. The Palm Center has also been blessed with a large roster of staff, friends, and supporters who gave generously of their time and talents over the years, particularly Indra Lusero, our capable and fearless assistant director, Jeanne Schepper, our creative and thoughtful research director, and Shivaun Nestor, our Web designer. The Palm Center is deeply indebted to the Evelyn and Walter Haas, Jr., Fund, the Gill Foundation, the Wells Fargo Foundation, the Arcus Foundation, Andrew Tobias, Henry van Ameringen, Steven Gluckstern, and numerous other generous foundations and individuals for their support. For their time and assistance, I also thank Bob Witeck, Ethan Geto, Robert Raben, Mark Glaze, Bridget Wilson, Christopher Neff, Jesse Klempner, Tobias Wolff, Gary Gates, Elizabeth Hillman, Melissa Embser-Herbert, and Laura Miller.
The passionate work of the entire staff at the Servicemembers Legal Defense Network (SLDN) has been invaluable in compiling useful information about this issue and in raising its visibility, as well as in representing service members affected by “don’t ask, don’t tell.” I am grateful for SLDN’s cooperation in my efforts to tell the story of this policy. I thank Dixon Osburn, Aubrey Sarvis, and especially Kathi Westcott, whose careful reading of the manuscript and helpful and informative critiques were essential as I worked to ensure that the story of this policy was described in proper detail.
Founders and organizers of several other groups committed to educating the nation about the experiences of gay, lesbian, and bisexual service members were also an enormous help to my research efforts: American Veterans for Equal Rights, Servicemembers United, the Military Equality Alliance, Military Community Services Network, USNA Out, and Gay and Lesbian Servicemembers for Equality.
My heartfelt thanks go to my agent, Carol Mann, who believed in this project from the moment she read the proposal and helped me navigate the bookmaking process in a realistic and encouraging way; to the entire team at St. Martin’s Press/Thomas Dunne Books, who have been nothing but lovely: my highly responsive chief editor, Rob Kirkpatrick; my spirited lunch partner, Tom Dunne; my savvy publicist, John Karle; and the rest of the sharp and ever helpful editing clan: Lorrie McCann, Julie Gutin, Martha Cameron, and Amber Husbands.
My editing experience with my personal editor, David Lobenstin
e, was a dream. David often rearranged his schedule to do exactly what I needed, and to do it quickly, but he cut no corners and offered the ideal blend of support and constructive criticism. The book would simply be an inferior product if it weren’t for his steady guidance.
Research is so often a solitary affair and, while technology allows collaborators to remain geographically apart, it was a source of not only priceless practical assistance but also ongoing social edification to have had the aid of so many talented and committed researchers on board. For their assistance, I thank Cindy Gorn, Josh Vandeburgh, Dominick Mach, Michael Freeman, Caroline Hong, and the inimitable Cassie Peterson.
For the sake of narrative flow, I have kept to a minimum the mention of other scholars and journalists who have done tireless work in uncovering the stories of gays and lesbians in the military. Here I would like to acknowledge a few on whose pathbreaking research and writing I have heavily relied for my historical understanding of this issue. Their job of gathering information and insisting it was important enough to write about was particularly tough and heroic in the days when discussing this issue still made most people queasy or uncomfortable. The late Randy Shilts and Allan Bérubé are foremost among them. Chris Bull and John Gallagher’s chronicle of the role of the religious right in the battle over gay service in the 1990s was especially helpful, as was Anne Loveland’s primary research on the relationship between American evangelicals and the U.S. military. I am grateful to her for sharing her papers on that topic with the Palm Center.
Of course, this book could not exist without the service and cooperation of the many named and unnamed service members, both here and abroad, who shared their stories with me, helped host my research trips, and put me in touch with others affected by “don’t ask, don’t tell.” I am especially appreciative of the efforts and assistance of Alan Steinman and Alex Nicholson.
Thanks also go to Peter Dangerfield, who gave generously of his time to read and critique the manuscript, and to Christopher Rhodes, Ed Hall, Chris Rizzo, Dan Koenig, Johnny Symons, Chris Laidlaw, Matthew Brown, Miranda Beverly-Whittemore, Amanda Selwyn, Thaddeus Rudd, James Latham, Sarah Kitson, and the guys at Outpost Café in Clinton Hill, Brooklyn, where I wrote much of the manuscript.
My parents, John and Elaine Frank, my grandparents, and my entire family have been incredibly supportive throughout the writing process, showing enthusiasm for my work, respect for the subject, and thoughtful ideas and editing tips along the way. My grandfather, the late Gerold Frank, gave me cause to believe that I could be a writer like he was, as did my cousin Emily Rosenblum. My grandmother, Mollie Greenberg, generously expressed her interest in a way that prodded me to soldier on. My love for them all has no bounds.
Finally, my deepest gratitude goes to Richard Latham. He has encouraged, comforted, and moved me for six years; he patiently supported my interests and gently spurred me to work when I didn’t always feel like it; he has taught and inspired me with his own commitment to his art; he has amused me and taken the piss out of me and helped me laugh at myself, always keeping the right perspective about what’s important as he willingly inhabited a world that was sometimes foreign to him. For all this I am forever grateful.
A NOTE ON TERMS
“DON’T ASK, DON’T TELL” refers to a 1993 government policy, together with its implementing regulations and directives, and to a federal statute that Congress passed the same year. This marked the first time restrictions against gay troops were ever written into federal law. The policy and the law are distinct but overlapping entities. While I endeavor to make these distinctions clear whenever necessary, I also use the word “policy” as an umbrella term for the entire set of government restrictions against openly gay service. This usage has become common since the policy was formulated, although some observers have emphasized the differences between the Pentagon policy and the federal statute, noting, for instance, that while the Pentagon policy includes a “don’t ask” provision, the actual law does not, and that the law was never formally named “don’t ask, don’t tell.”
It is true that the policy and the law are different in important ways, yet the two do not conflict. The policy does nothing that is forbidden by the law, and there is nothing the policy fails to do that is mandated by the law. While the law does not force the Pentagon to stop asking recruits about their sexuality, for instance, it does not bar it from doing so, either, and in fact legislators made clear in a “Sense of Congress” that they supported doing away with the questioning of recruits about their sexual orientation. My interpretation, then, is that the policy and law are close enough that they can accurately be referred to as “don’t ask, don’t tell.” When their differences become germane to a particular discussion, I try to make those distinctions clear.
To an extent, I sometimes place responsibility for the final outcome on the military itself because of the key role that military leaders have played in the political process. It is important to remember, however, that because the policy is now a matter of federal law, it will require an act of Congress to end the ban on openly gay servicemen and -women.
As we shall see, subject to certain exceptions, the policy requires the discharge of anyone found to have engaged in “homosexual conduct,” which is defined to include statements declaring one’s homosexual identity. Because the policy has been cast as a restriction on conduct, and not on the status of being homosexual, some suggest it is not accurate to refer to it as a ban. I argue that it is, in fact, a ban because it defines conduct so broadly as to include the most basic revelation of homosexual identity. In any event, whether or not you view the policy as a ban on gay people, it is, by all accounts, a ban on openly gay service, and when I use the term “ban,” that is how I intend it.
I use the terms “gay” and “homosexual” to refer inclusively to people who identify themselves as gay, lesbian, or bisexual. I realize this does not fully comport with common usage. To me, however, the terms “gay” and “homosexual” refer to men and women who have an erotic and physical attraction to people of the same sex, whether felt exclusively or occasionally. For that reason, and to avoid awkward and bulky phrasing, I am hoping you will find the usage appropriate. Note, also, that the “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy does not encompass transgendered people, but refers only to homosexuals and bisexuals, which is why I don’t include transgendered people in this analysis. This is not meant to neglect or exclude the experiences of transgendered people in the military, but the specific analysis of those experiences lies outside the scope of this study.
One final note: I often use the word “discharge” to refer to administrative separations under “don’t ask, don’t tell.” Technically, “discharge” is the term used any time a military member leaves the service, whether prematurely or because his or her contract term has expired, whereas an administrative “separation” normally refers to removal for any of a number of reasons, including a finding of “homosexual conduct.” In most cases for our purposes, I use “discharge,” “separate,” “dismiss,” “expel,” “fire,” “oust,” and “boot” interchangeably. It is also helpful to note that criminal convictions under military law, which governs offenses such as sodomy and adultery, are distinct from the territory of “don’t ask, don’t tell,” which can only result in an administrative separation. Normally, “don’t ask, don’t tell” discharges are characterized as “honorable” unless the conduct is performed by force, with a subordinate or youth, in public, for money, on a ship, or otherwise has an aggravating impact on discipline, good order, or morale.
PROLOGUE
CHARLIE MOSKOS WAS proud of his contribution to the English language: coining the phrase “don’t ask, don’t tell.” It was fall of 1992, and the Northwestern University professor was knee-deep in the latest hot-button social issue to confront the U.S. military: whether it should finally let gays and lesbians serve. “The phrase and the policy just came to me one night at my house when I was at the watercooler,” he recalled in
an interview in the year 2000. “Obviously, it was perking around in my subconscious.”1 Professor Moskos, then considered the most influential military sociologist in the United States, was not engaged in idle speculation or academic posturing. Over the last four decades, he had gained an international reputation as an academic expert on social issues in the military—racial integration, conscription, national service, women in combat—and had contributed ideas and policies that affected thousands of lives.
And now this: homosexuality. The presence of gay men and women in the military had long been a subject of sweeping pronouncements and endless compromises. It had been a persistent thorn in the Pentagon’s side since the Vietnam War era, but by 1992, as Bill Clinton geared up for the presidency and religious conservatives geared up to save America’s soul, the gay troops issue was becoming a public relations nightmare.
Moskos spent years building his credentials as a military sociologist. After graduating from Princeton in 1956, he was drafted into the U.S. Army and spent two years as a company clerk in Germany. Although he served there with the army’s combat engineers, he made a name for himself not as a soldier but as an academic. After earning a Ph.D. from the University of California, Los Angeles, he became an expert field researcher on military personnel issues and soon took a job as a sociology professor at Northwestern University, developing a popular introductory course where, with a self-deprecating demeanor, he humbly presented his ideas and then finished with the words Churchill once used to describe democracy: “It’s the worst system possible,” he told the five hundred students in his 9:00 A.M. course, with a gradually widening grin. “Except for all the others.” It’s a maxim he would invoke with equal delight years later in describing “don’t ask, don’t tell.” Since his eureka moment at the watercooler, Moskos’s phrase has evolved into “don’t ask, don’t tell, don’t pursue,” a law that helps determine how the military trains and treats its men and women. The military’s policy on gays and lesbians has been transformed from a residual hodgepodge of a bygone era to a carefully articulated modern legal morass that wreaks havoc with the lives of service members and with the capacity of our nation to defend itself—all courtesy of an administration that promised it would make things better. And Charles Moskos was among a small and powerful group of people who were largely responsible for this debacle.
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