Ignorance of reality made apparent

The merits of Jim Mack’s article, “Contradictory arguments made,” rest on the rather bold assumption that both of his points are sound.

Firstly, Mack declares that if homosexuality is not a choice, then it can be “cured” either through psychotherapy or gene therapy. The former should not have been mentioned, precisely because of what he stated flatly – homosexuality is not a mental disorder. Psychotherapy is completely ineffective. The latter option, gene therapy, while more theoretically plausible, has still not been used to any effect, and is therefore no more realistic an option for “curing” homosexuality than is psychotherapy.

Secondly, Mack’s second argument is wholly dependent upon the first’s reasonability for its existence. He contends that if homosexuality were “curable,” homosexuals would not be open to such a cure. Since it is not curable, the second statement has no relevance. However, going along with the hypothetical, it is perfectly natural to consider that someone who has spent their entire life struggling with and coming to terms with who they are may not want to give up their identity because they suddenly can – a situation which could never arise, since gene therapy cannot take place after birth.

Since neither of his arguments hold up to scrutiny, it is clear that the merits of Mack’s article are naught.

-Ian wisekal

Class of 2008



Letters to the Editor

While looking for something to do on a Friday evening, five of us at the Campus Times made our way down to ESL Ballpark April 17 to catch a Rochester Red Wings game. Our group boasted a Mets fan, a Yankees fan, a Padres fan, a Twins fan, and one person more familiar with cricket than with baseball. Read More

Letters to the Editor

So, you have a degree in Biochemistry and English. You served in student government for four years, clustered in Astrophysics, and speak passable German. In other words, you’re unemployed.  Read More

Letters to the Editor

The first realization of my own age hit me in the months before I started college. I was helping my dad clean the small office he’d occupied in Rush Rhees longer than I’d been alive. The walls of which boasted childhood drawings that my sister and I had crayoned. Even though I was looking at my distant past, I realized I would soon be starting a new page of my future. Read More