IGF CultureWatch

Last December, a longtime political strategist legally married his partner of 40 years in the state of Massachusetts. On April 9, their marriage was the subject of a news story in The New York Times. Since when does a five-month-old wedding count as news in the paper of record? Apparently, when the political strategist, Arthur Finkelstein, is a Republican, and the partner he lawfully wed is a man.

It's also news when a former president of the United States casts aspersions on the character of said gay Republican. The April 12 New York Times ran a story in the New York/Region section with the headline "Clinton Says Gay Opponent of His Wife May Be 'Self-Loathing.'" During a news conference on Monday, Mr. Clinton was asked if he was angry about Mr. Finkelstein's plans to raise $10 million for a political action committee, Stop Her Now. Mr. Finkelstein, you see, intends for Stop Her Now to do to the junior senator from New York in 2006 what Swift Boat Veterans for Truth did to the junior senator from Massachusetts in 2004.

Not surprisingly, President Clinton found a curious way of defending his wife's honor. He commented that the anti-Hillary campaign made him "sad," and referred to the Times article on Finkelstein's own same-sex marriage and the GOP's campaigning against same-sex marriage last fall. Then there was this insight:

"I thought, one of two things. Either this guy believes his party is not serious and is totally Machiavellian in its position, or you know, as David Brock said in his great book Blinded by the Right, there's some sort of self-loathing or something. I was more sad for him."

David Brock, you may remember, was the conservative author of such 1990s bestsellers as The Real Anita Hill and The Seduction of Hillary Rodham - both tomes reveling in lurid personal details of liberal women loathed by conservatives - before renouncing his conservative politics and coming out as gay in Blinded by the Right. Brock's own story is a classic conversion narrative; by accepting the truth of his gay identity, he saw the light and cast off his nefarious, self-loathing conservative ways.

By invoking Brock, Clinton means to suggest that Finkelstein can only be a true supporter of his party if he somehow hates himself for his sexuality. If he works through this "self-loathing," Clinton implies, then the consultant might also open his eyes.

Clinton's comments are disgusting but hardly shocking. He was never a consistent proponent of husbandly virtue. He also hasn't been a consistent supporter of gay and lesbian Americans. Sure, he says he feels our pain, and he did appoint a handful of A-gays to prestigious positions. But he also signed into law the most explicitly anti-gay legislation in the history of our federal government: the military's "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" policy in 1993 and the Defense of Marriage Act in 1996. Did President Clinton sell gays down the river because he was "totally Machiavellian" or because he was filled with "some sort" of loathing?

Perhaps this choice is as unfair to President Clinton as the one he posed to Mr. Finkelstein. Even so, Clinton's comments reflect the significant role that fear and loathing have played in recent political matters involving gays. For the GOP last fall, anxiety about court-forced gay marriage proved an essential get-out-the-vote tool. Direct mail flyers sent by the Republican National Committee into states like Arkansas and West Virginia - states won twice by President Clinton - featured a Bible marked with the word "BANNED" and two men looking lovingly at each other marked with the word "APPROVED"; the flyer suggested this is what Democrats would impose if they regained power in Washington.

On the one hand, it's hard to see how a self-respecting gay person could support a party that deployed such hateful, untruthful campaign tactics. On the other hand, it's easy to see why 23 percent of gay and lesbian Americans voted to re-elect President Bush when the alternative was John Kerry, who last showed courage on a boat in Vietnam in the 1960s.

Since Kerry was one of 12 senators to vote against the Defense of Marriage Act, no one honestly thought that he didn't support same-sex marriage in his heart. His official position was meant to neutralize the issue by opposing the Federal Marriage Amendment, supporting civil unions in principle but insisting that the decision is up to the people of each state.

For Kerry's gay supporters, this position was an anti-Atkins diet, all carbs and no protein. He fed them empty calories of moral support while avoiding the red meat of political risk. The Senate lacked the vote to pass the constitutional amendment, and virtually every gay rights group was advocating for marriage, not civil unions, which would thus fail to materialize. For many nonpartisan gays, choosing between Kerry and Bush on gay issues was like choosing between heartburn and diarrhea: both were tough to stomach.

For both parties, loathing of the other trumps the self-interest of gays in policies regarding their lives and liberties. But then that is, after all, the point of joining a political party. Since President Bush endorsed the FMA last year, it's become commonplace to castigate gay Republicans for sharing a big tent with the likes of Alan Keyes and Sen. Rick Santorum - or, at the very least, question their self-image as Clinton did.

There's a much simpler explanation that Clinton has missed: Gays can be accomplished political hacks. Loyalty to the party can trump loyalty to one's identity group. Party unity gave Republicans a working majority under their big tent. This development no doubt confounds national Democrats like Clinton, who have long believed that your identity is your politics. It's time for Democrats to see the light.

On March 14, a San Francisco County judge ruled that a state law banning same-sex marriage violates the California constitution. His ruling comes a month after a Manhattan trial court judge determined that there is no ban on same-sex marriage under current New York State law. Enforcement of both decisions has been suspended, pending appeal; even so, these bicoastal cases have given advocates of same-sex marriage great reason to cheer.

These cases also bring cause for concern, as they are part of a strategy that same-sex marriage advocates across the U.S. have embraced wholly, quickly and without much regard for its negative consequences. The strategy is litigation; the goal is a U.S. Supreme Court edict making equal access to marriage the law of the land.

At first blush, such a decision may seem appealing, due to its finality and far-reaching scope. Even if a majority of the Supremes would jump the broom for same-sex marriage on some distant day, the very way such litigation is pursued creates a series of political problems in the here and now. Presumably, these difficulties would fall away on that glorious day when equality for gay and lesbian Americans is handed down from on high. The question that must be asked is whether the damage in the meantime can be so easily reversed - even more so if that glorious day never comes to pass.

The litigation strategy would seem to bear the fullest fruit when the lawsuits are filed in cities like New York and San Francisco - the bluest epicenters of very blue states. Local judges in Kansas or Indiana would be far less inclined to rule in favor of the plaintiffs. At the same time, this strategy of focusing on liberal bastions sets up same-sex marriage advocates for a major backlash in more conservative states. When "judicial activism" takes root in the big coastal cities, state legislators in heartland capitals like Topeka and Indianapolis follow suit with state constitutional amendments banning same-sex marriage. Indeed, Kansas and Indiana are among states that have renewed efforts to pass such amendments in recent weeks.

Perhaps this dynamic can be written off as Newton's third law of American politics: A legal action in the blue states yields and equal and opposite legislative action in the red states. Many on the left view this dynamic and say, so what? If gay couples want to get married, they're better off moving to states like Massachusetts, California or New York, where things are much more progressive, anyway. What self-respecting gay person would ever want to set foot in a state like Kansas, where they've made such a name for themselves fighting the radical theory of evolution?

The answer, of course, is that there are gay and lesbian couples living at this very moment in Kansas, Indiana and all the other states, even those that voted for President Bush by double-digit margins. In fact, some 23 percent of gay and lesbian voters cast their ballot for W. this time around. Thus, it's vital to remember that marriage is not a partisan issue - it's a matter of the humanity and dignity of Americans of every political stripe in every state.

If litigation in some states leads to equality in marriage, resulting in legislation in other states that makes that same equality much more difficult to achieve, isn't it worth it? In practice, this is a false choice, because litigation is far from the only option. For all the flurry of anti-marriage legislation, there have been very few attempts to enact state recognition of same-sex relationships through the legislative process. Beefed-up domestic partnerships have gone into effect in California, and Connecticut is about to enact civil unions both passed by the legislature and signed by the governor, rather than signed by the judiciary.

I admit, these civil unions are not exactly the same as marriage; the states enacting them have strived to make them separate but equal. This is not the ideal, but it's darn close and historically impressive, especially considering that states could arrest gay people for having consensual sex in private until two years ago. If the only impediment to state recognition is the word marriage, why not work to pass civil unions now and save full marriage for the next generation?

Because there is a third element to achieving marriage equality: education. For all of the furor over gay marriage and moral values in last year's election, I remain surprised by how little time and energy advocates for same-sex marriage spent making their case to the public. When they got their moment in the spotlight, too often such advocates wasted precious airtime. They could have demonstrated how same-sex couples currently function and thrive in communities in every state, and why their relationships are worthy of recognition. Instead, they lambasted President Bush for changing the subject from the war in Iraq to gay marriage. Unsurprisingly, this strategy failed miserably.

True social change means changing hearts and minds. Laws will have to change as well, but solid and lasting equality will come when revisions to the law are backed by the will of the people. When new laws are imposed from on high, there is no guarantee that the mass of citizens will follow suit.

The place to start is not a court of law, but the court of public opinion. And the process should not be a struggle. There are still a lot of Americans who don't know a gay person very well - or don't know they know one. It is a grave moral and political error to confuse the uncertainty of such people - even when underpinned by fear - as a kind of hate. The better avenue is one of openness and dialogue that starts with the people next door. That's something no court can hand down.