Navies must get this issue right: the consequences of getting it wrong would be grave. Misplaced pride and outdated prejudice will not be needed, rather it will take plenty of quiet and purposeful persuasion—and time.
The senior German naval officer fixed me with what might have been a Prussian glare and assured me that in the German Navy, "we are very relaxed about homosexuals." "But," he continued, "we have very few of them." A little later I was assured by a similarly senior French officer that the French Navy took tile "Don't Ask; Don't Tell" line, and that this worked happily for all concerned. "But," he added, with what might have been just the hint of an elegant Gallic shrug, "known homosexuals would not, in practice, achieve command. They would not be selected." The distinguished Italian naval officer, whom I next met, suggested that while few Italian men were homosexual, there was no bar against them joining the navy. I waited for the "but"' . . . and sure enough: "But those who do join are unlikely to gain a security clearance." Is this the perceived pattern in European NATO navies: public acceptance with just a measure of latent prejudice?
On the other hand, the Turkish Navy's position is unambiguous: homosexuality is not allowed; any men found to be gay will be discharged forthwith. It is all very straightforward—rightly or wrongly, a cultural imperative. The Portuguese position also is negative at present.
The British are in a bit of a mess, and rather a difficult one. The current policy is that the British services do not accept acknowledged homosexuals, and if they are discovered they may expect to be administratively discharged. Being a homosexual in the services has not been a disciplinary offense since 1994, but discovery can come from a third party, from an admission by the person concerned, or from inference from obvious conduct. These "discoveries" are investigated not least because some are false—the subject may view such an administrative discharge as a neat solution to a tiresome demand for a "return of service."
The perceived merits or demerits of Britain's current policy became rather irrelevant in the autumn of 1999, when the European Court of Human Rights found, first, that the practices of British service investigations were an interference of the privacy of the individual; and, second, that the policy itself was unacceptable. In other words, Britain was deemed to be at fault not only in process but also in substance. As a result, a tacked-up compromise would not work, and the British government, like Fagin in "Oliver," has been under pressure to review the situation.
There have been two ways forward for Britain, which may loosely be tagged as the "U.S." and the "Australian" options. The U.S. option is "Don't Ask; Don't Tell," and it looks rather like a stopgap, with the inherent disadvantages of exposure by first or third parties, The Australian solution is that a person's sexual orientation is his or her own affair, but that overt sexual behavior (however this may be defined) is liable to cause offense—particularly in the closed communities on board ships—and therefore is not permitted and would be a disciplinary offense. Such a policy would be in line with the practices followed for heterosexual behavior within the fleet. In a statement on 13 December 1999, U.K. Secretary of State for Defence, Geoffrey Hoon, effectively opted for the Australian solution, and will publish a new Code of Conduct for the services in the new year.
Implementing such a policy may not be entirely straightforward. In ships, currently, men and women have separate mess decks and some separate heads and bathrooms. A separation scheme to meet the purported needs of heterosexuals and homosexuals of both genders clearly is not feasible. The need to avoid overt sexual behavior therefore will be all the more important. There also is a wrinkle in that the age of homosexual consent in Britain is 18, while that of heterosexual consent is 16. This will complicate the care of young people in ships, where the commanding officer, morally and in the eyes of parents, is in loco parentis.
And what of the Royal Navy itself, and particularly the fleet? Five years ago, both were vigorously and almost unanimously opposed to acceptance of homosexuals. But time has passed, and will continue to do so: society is changing from the top down and from the bottom up. Opinion formers, by a large majority, have moved on from believing that sexual orientation is a significant issue in public life—and that opinion is unlikely to be reversed in society as a whole. Young people joining the services have for the most part learned that sexual orientation is no big deal, and people at the top will recognize an inevitability when they see one. Mature people, serving in the middle rates and ranks, may need the most persuasion, but persuaded they need to be, because this is hardly an issue appropriate for enforcement. Get it wrong, and an ethos gap will open up between the services and society. And persuasion will not necessarily be simple—some ethnic groups that the services most keenly need to attract to repress another prejudice, for example, may find the process difficult.
The purpose of a navy is to provide defense and security for the nation. To do so, it must be operationally effective. Mere existence in a socially correct form without effectiveness is of minimal value, even politically. The challenge is to achieve both, and the European experience, for example, of the Royal Netherlands Navy. is encouraging. Some other navies are at varying stages on the same road as the Royal Navy. The key to success may lie in patient and sensible discussion, from which both high-profile homophobes and homosexual activists could usefully be absent. Navies must get this issue right: the consequences of getting it wrong would be grave. Misplaced pride and outdated prejudice will not be needed, rather it will take plenty of quiet and purposeful persuasion—and time.