Tolerance and Experience

Tolerance, liberalism, broadmindedness — call it what you will — is not something that can be imposed from without, by law or religion, reason or emotion. It comes, rather, by experience.

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I was fifteen or sixteen years old. I only have vague memories of the specifics, but the incident was significant in my moral development. My father, mother, sister, and I were at one of my aunt and uncle’s for dinner with a visiting uncle I had never met before (and never saw again), a general in the Pentagon. My vague memory only begins toward the end of the dinner (the dining table was in an alcove, a light green paint or wallpaper, I think) when the general (sitting at the far end of the table) began telling jokes. Racist jokes. I only recall (vaguely) two of the jokes; maybe that was all he told, or maybe that was all he told before I left the table. The first involved a black woman and a Cadillac, the second a Jew.

I wouldn’t have thought myself “tolerant” or “liberal” or “broadminded” at the time. Indeed, I grew up in something of a racist community, both city and family, though I wouldn’t have thought myself “racist” or “bigoted” or “intolerant.” That evening, though, something began to gel. I’d heard racist and bigoted jokes and remarks before, plenty of times. But something about this stranger of an uncle, assuming a friendly audience, made me angry, angry at his bigotry. My two best friends at the time were Jewish and Greek-American, and I have no doubt that my connecting the general’s jokes with my personal friends sparked my first experience of being offended.

I got up without excusing myself, went through the kitchen and out to the backyard. It must have been summer because it was still light out. After a few minutes, my mother came out to see what was wrong. Apparently it was clear, at least to her, that I was upset. I can’t recall exactly what was said, but I did tell her I’d been offended by my uncle’s jokes (he was my father’s brother, not hers). She went back inside. I have no idea what she said or what happened inside. I walked around the side of the house and got in our car, parked in the street out front. A few minutes later, my father, mother, and sister came out, and we drove home. Maybe we talked about what had happened, probably not. I’m sure there was a lot still soaking in. There was for me.