Nick Gillespie on gays in the Boy Scouts

From Nick Gillespie of Reason Magazine:

A Lesson From the Scouts' Own Book 

The Boy Scouts of America are in the news again, for the only thing they ever seem to be in the news for anymore: their attitudes toward homosexuals. 

Next week, the Scouts will hold a vote that's widely expected to end the blanket ban on gays joining as members or holding adult leadership. By most accounts, the century-old organization will probably let individual chartering groups—many of which are churches—decide whether homosexuals can join and help run their troops.

A 1940S Boy Scout playing bugle. Can the organization be as resilient as its members?
Before I get to whether that's a good idea, let me share some of the lessons I learned while working toward the rank of Eagle Scout which I earned in 1980. Many were trivial, others profound. Most have stayed with me. 

I learned how to show up on time, or better yet, 10 minutes early. I learned how to dress carefully and distinctly, how to roll and secure my troop's signature pale blue neckerchief in exactly the prescribed manner, how to shine my shoes and how to cinch my belt so that the metal-clad tips met "brass on brass." I learned that wearing a uniform didn't mean you all had to think the same way. 

I learned how to stand straight and not laugh inappropriately and how to tie not just a bowline knot but a sheepshank, too. I learned that woodworking and carving were hard but, like any other skill, if you practiced it long enough, you could get pretty good at it.
For one of my 20-plus merit badges, I learned that I could survive in the woods overnight with nothing but a length of rope, a pound of ground beef, a pocketknife and a flint-and-steel for starting a fire. 

I learned the incredible rush that comes from starting a fire with nothing but a hunk of rock and a piece of metal when you're cold and hungry and wondering what the heck you were doing outside with nothing to eat except a pound of ground beef. I learned I could swim a mile in a lake without touching the bottom once and that I could use a compass to find my way through the woods. 

I learned that one of the best ways to deal with a troublemaker was to give him a little responsibility (I was a troublemaker). I learned that I could talk to my father about sleeping outdoors in a tent as he had done as an infantryman in World War II. I learned that men who weren't your dad but had fought in Korea and Vietnam and worked jobs that weren't glamorous or even personally rewarding could teach you a lot—and could be great fun.
I learned about trust and confidence and leadership when I was asked to instruct Tenderfoot scouts (the lowest rank) on how to use axes and hatchets safely, build fires without burning down the forest, and shine their shoes and roll their neckerchiefs properly and stand at attention without laughing inappropriately. 

I learned that not everything and everyone had to be ironic or cynical or jaded all the time and that some of the goofiest, most earnest traditions and rituals—circling up for "Taps" at the end of each weekly meeting, say, or reciting the Scout Law ("A Scout is trustworthy, loyal, helpful...")—held enormous power. I learned that the Scout motto ("Be Prepared") and slogan ("Do a good turn daily") were pretty good ideas to take seriously throughout life. 

During hundreds of camping trips and meetings and service projects and weird and wonderful events such as the Klondike Derby (a cold-weather competition in which scouts drag makeshift sleds over frozen ground for hours), I learned how to adapt to changing circumstances on the fly while keeping the main goals in sight. 

Now, of course, it's time for the Boy Scouts themselves to learn a lesson about adaptability—one that I fear may be coming too late to save the group from its long decline in numbers and influence. 

I still draw on what I learned in the Scouts, whose mission statement talks about preparing "young people to make ethical and moral choices over their lifetimes." That creed has helped to make me a better father—or at least a less-bad one—to my two sons, whom I kept from joining the Boy Scouts because of the group's position on gays. 

It was a decision that I made with much sadness and not a little anger, but it was fully in keeping with the Scout Oath, which requires members to do their best to be "morally straight" at all times and to do what they think is right. 

I hope that by the time my sons become fathers, they will feel comfortable enrolling their own children in the Scouts, and I will be able to talk with my grandkids about what it's like to sleep in a tent outdoors and to pull a sled over frozen ground and how to stand at attention without laughing inappropriately and all the rest.

Shame on the Boy Scouts for caving on this critical issue.

The Boy Scout's ban on homosexuals has been because homosexual conduct is immoral, and because putting boys and young men in intimate situations with men in authority who are sexually attracted to them is unsafe. Even if one makes the argument that being 'gay' does not predispose to pedophilia (it does), most Boy Scouts (age 12-17) are post-pubescent and sexually mature, and same-sex attraction to them isn't pedophilia anyway.

Sorta puts the lie to libs who claim that their excoriation of the Catholic Church for the abuse scandal is because they want to 'protect the kids'.  When it comes to letting gays in the Boy Scouts have easy access to youngsters to which they are attracted, libs are in the cheering section. But then again why would we expect people who defend aborting kids to have qualms about putting them at risk for sexual abuse?

Nick Gillespie may have the opportunity to talk with his grandsons about a lot of things besides sleeping in a tent outdoors, after their first overnight camping trip with their gay scoutmasters.