I wish we lived in a world of love—of justice and compassion—where there was no judgment, only acceptance and appreciation. If this is too much to ask for, I wish we lived in a world where people were not judged by the color of their skin or their sex or their religion or their sexual orientation, but by the content of their character. If this is too much to ask for, then I wish we lived in a world where ignorance and hatefulness and incivility were marginalized instead of celebrated, where people who practice such things were not promoted to the top of companies, voted into office, given radio and TV shows and book deals. If this, too, is too much to ask for then I at least wish those of us who disdain such things would not remain quiet, not give into the blusterous bullies and their benighted rhetoric, not sit in silence as the insecure haters make homophobic, sexist, or racists remarks, not stand idly by accepting injustice because that’s just the way the world works. As Dr. King said, “In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.”
To all this, you may say that I’m a naïve dreamer. Perhaps. But I’m not the only one.
There’s King and Lennon, of course. And there’s also Philip Green—a highly respected writer who is recruited by a national magazine to write a series of articles on anti-Semitism in 1940s America in Elia Kazan’s “Gentleman’s Agreement.” Green (played by Gregory Peck) is not too hip on the idea at first, but then it occurs to him that since he’s new in town, he can pretend to be Jewish, and thus experience firsthand the realities of racism and prejudice, and write from that perspective. It takes very little time for him to experience bigotry. He soon learns the liberal-minded firm he works for doesn’t hire Jews and that his own secretary changed her name and kept the fact that she is Jewish a secret from everyone. Green soon finds that he won’t be invited to certain parties, that he cannot stay in certain ‘restricted’ hotels and that his own son is called names in the street. His anger at the way he is treated also affects his relationship with his fiancée, Kathy Lacy, his publisher’s niece and the person who suggested the series in the first place.
Of all the horrible injustices and inequities Green experiences, the most insidious is the silence Dr. King talked about, the gentleman’s agreement of those who say they are not anti-Semitic not to stand up against those who are. Of course, by their very refusal to take a stand they (and we) are part of the systemic oppression of the minority, the different, the other, that history gives dreadful witness to.
“Gentleman’s Agreement” deals with anti-Semitism, but the lessons of hate and tribalism in the film apply to all oppressed peoples and groups, particularly the powerless, the different, the disenfranchised minority.
“Gentleman’s Agreement” is a brave and poignant film—especially for 1947—and though I’m sure some will condemn it as polemical or didactic, I think it achieves a good balance between story and moral, never becoming preachy or patronizing. And it’s not bulky or heavy-handed in the way of 2004’s “Crash.”
Of all the brilliant achievements of “Gentleman’s Agreement,” perhaps the two most telling and terrifying are the way good, well-intentioned people contribute to the oppression of others by not raging against the machine, and the way certain people within oppressed groups attempt to assimilate and disappear, and resent those who don’t—both groups taking a dangerous “don’t ask, don’t tell” approach that requires denial and dishonesty.
Bigotry, prejudice, hate—any form of xenophobia, whether racism, sexism, classism, or homophobia—all come from the same little lizard brain place of fear that leads to tribalism, insecurity, and a warped sense of superiority.
I returned to “Gentleman’s Agreement” recently for what must be the fifth viewing because of an experience I had that was not unlike that of Philip Green.
When word got out that I refused to be married until my gay brothers and sisters enjoyed the same opportunities and equality, gossip began to spread and certain people assumed I was gay and began treating me differently. Speculation and gossip and condemnation have continued and let to some incivility and unkindness—and the entire experience made me feel like I was living my own little version of “Gentleman’s Agreement.”
I’m grateful for the experience, and its heightening of my experience of the film, which is rich and rewarding, reminding us that all that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good people do nothing.
“Gentleman’s Agreement” is filled with good people—actors, writers, filmmakers—doing something.
Several of the main players and the director of “Gentleman’s Agreement” were brought before the House Un-American Activities Committee. The two who refused to testify, John Garfield (who played Green’s best friend, Dave Goldman) and Anne Revere (who played Green’s mother) were added to the Hollywood Blacklist. Revere didn’t appear in another movie for twenty years and Garfield died of a heart attack at the age of thirty-nine after being called before the committee again—this time to testify against his wife.
Gregory Peck, my all-time favorite actor, for his choice of roles even more than his acting style and screen presence, was a good, principled man whose name was on Richard Nixon’s “enemies list.” Peck is Philip Green, Father Chisholm, Dr. Anthony Edwards, Joe Bradley, King David, and Atticus Finch—the very embodiment of the best of the characters he played.
Our failures of compassion say far more about us than those we’re prejudiced against. And compassion is the key—not pity that comes from a superior place, but a “feeling with,” putting ourselves in the place of others, experiencing what they experience, feeling what they feel. As another of Gregory Peck’s characters, Atticus Finch, says, “You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view—until you climb into his skin and walk around in it.” A Muslim proverb says, “To understand a person, you must walk a mile in her shoes whether they fit or not.” It’s exactly what Atticus Finch and Philip Green do, and what you and I can do every day if we will only be as willing and caring and open and brave as they are.
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