IGF CultureWatch

Marriage-equality opponents frequently claim that marriage has been heterosexual since…well, since FOREVER, and that it is arrogant and foolish to tinker with such a pervasive human institution.

Whatever its logical shortcomings, the "always and everywhere" argument is rhetorically effective. Even gay-rights advocates concede that marriage equality seemed unthinkable just a decade or two ago. Imagine how novel it appears to those who, unlike us, have no direct stake in the issue.

It's tempting to respond that lots of things that seemed unthinkable a few decades ago-iPhones, Facebook, Sarah Palin-are, for better or worse, now familiar. But the reluctance to tinker with marriage is deep-seated. The "always and everywhere" argument demands a response that is not only logically sound but also rhetorically compelling.

Several responses are worth pondering. I've given them each names for convenience:

(1) False premise: The claim that marriage has always been exclusively heterosexual suffers from what should be a fatal flaw: it is simply not true. Same-sex marriages have been documented in a number of cultures, notably some African and Pacific Island cultures.

Marriage-equality opponents retort that these marriages are not quite the same as modern same-sex marriages, since they typically involve a kind of gender transformation of one of the partners. But this response is a red herring. Sure, homosexual marriages in these cultures look different from ours in various respects-but so do their heterosexual marriages. More important, it is doubtful that opponents would abandon their objection to contemporary same-sex marriages as long as one partner agreed to be the "wife" and the other the "husband."

The real problem with the "false premise" response is rhetorical: The response depends on anthropological data unfamiliar to most people, and it appeals to "exotic" cultures whose practices most Americans find irrelevant.

(2) Heteronormativity: Rhetorical considerations would also weigh against using words like "heteronormativity" when responding to people's basic fears about marriage. But it's nonetheless true that the "always and everywhere" argument begs the question against those who argue-quite rightly-that the heterosexual majority tends to oppress the homosexual minority always and everywhere. Because of that oppression, recorded history often ignores or erases our lives and commitments.

Keep in mind that just a few decades ago, gays and lesbians were still considered mentally ill in much of the West; even today, gays are stoned to death in parts of the world. Against that backdrop, it's not surprising that same-sex marriage seems newfangled. The marriage-equality movement owes as much to an improved understanding of sexuality as it does to changing views about marriage.

(3) Not mandatory: Even granting the (false) premise that marriage has been heterosexual "always and everywhere," so what? No one is proposing that same-sex marriage be made mandatory. Heterosexual marriage will continue to exist "always and everywhere" for those who seek it, even while society recognizes that it's not appropriate for everyone. The opponents' argument seems to play on the irrational notion that giving marriage to gays somehow means taking it away from straights.

(4) Non-sequitur: Let's concede to marriage-equality opponents that history and tradition are important, and that we should be cautious about changes to major social institutions. Yet even if (contrary to fact) marriage were heterosexual "always and everywhere," it does not follow that marriage cannot expand and evolve. One should never confuse a reasonable caution with a stubborn complacency.

Increasingly, that complacency is more than stubborn-it's unconscionable. Marriage-equality opponents can no longer ignore the fact that we fall in love, just like they do; that our relationships have positive effects in our lives and the lives of those around us, and that we reasonably seek to protect and nurture these relationships. If not marriage for us, then what?

Ultimately, the problem with the "always and everywhere" argument is that each new same-sex marriage is a living counterexample to it. Whatever happened in the past, we have marriage equality now-in a small but growing number of places. These same-sex marriages are by and large bearing good fruit. If ignoring tradition is "arrogant and foolish," ignoring the evidence unfolding before us is exponentially so.

On August 21, the national assembly of the 4.6 million-member Evangelical Lutheran Church in America (ELCA) voted to allow the ordination of non-celibate gay and lesbian clergy. The resolution was passed by a 55 percent majority.

Earlier in the week the membrs had prepared for this vote by approving a measure that reduced the requirements for changing church policy from a two-thirds vote to a simple majority. Without that change, the resolution would have failed as before.

Gay-supportive Lutherans had long worked toward this end. For more than a decade and a half, the Lutheran Church has distributed materials on human sexuality and varieties of Bible interpretation, urging congregations to study the materials carefully. They were probably the first accurate discussion of sexuality and Bible interpretation that many church members had encountered and they clearly had at least some impact on members' attitudes.

We do, after all, know more about sexuality than people did two thousand years ago, and in the last two hundred years have learned a great deal about how to interpret the original significance of various biblical texts.

The assembly memberx also approved a social statement that called on Lutheran congregations to "welcome, care for, and support" gay and lesbian couples. That in itself is a strong indication of church attitudes, especially by its inclusion of the word "support."

The new church policy does not apply to all gay clergy, only those in "lifelong, monogamous relationships." In practice this will mean it will prohibit all publicly noticeable sexual behavior outside of the relationship, although there may be a certain amount of winking at occasional straying so long as it does not become open and notorious.

The Lutherans thus follow the lead of other Protestant churches such as the Unitarians, the United Church of Christ, and the Episcopal Church in allowing gay clergy. But the Lutherans differ from those other denominations in that they are generally regarded as less liberal than the others, and therefore the policy change has broad significance.

It is also important to note that Lutherans are strongest in the Midwest, the "heartland of America," whereas the Unitarians and United Church of Christ (once the Congregational Church) are particularly strong in New England-where most states have recently approved gay civil marriage. Is it significant that the Iowa Supreme Court recently voted unanimously to approve gay marriage? Probably.

Despite the fact that dissenting congregations are free not to accept openly gay clergy, there were vigorous dissents from conservatives. One man told The New York Times the new policy made him sick at his stomach, suggesting an almost phobic reaction to homosexuality itself rather than a mere religious difference. And one female pastor criticized the statement as contrary to the "Word of God," which seems ironic given that the Apostle Paul in "the same Word of God" said that women should be silent in church. Obviously there is some picking and choosing by Bible literalists of which verses one wishes to honor-as there always is.

As in the Episcopal Church, some Lutherans may choose to leave the ELCA, either to affiliate with the more conservative 2.6 million-member Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod or to join some other conservative denomination. Their departure will make the existing ELCA even more gay-friendly.

The policy shift also makes the ELCA more attractive to gays and lesbians (and their supporters), so some people may join or rejoin the church, making up some of the loss from the departure of any conservatives.

The ELCA shift leaves the United Methodists and Presbyterians USA as the major moderate denominations that do not afford gays and lesbians equality. As America slowly moves in a more gay-accepting direction and with continuing efforts by gays and their supporters in those churches, that will change in time.

"You don't just want us to tolerate what you gay people do," my skeptical questioner announced, "you want us to think that it's RIGHT."

Whenever I hear this point-and it's pretty often-I always think to myself, "Duh." Of course I want that. Why would anyone think otherwise?

Actually, the latter question is not entirely rhetorical. Even my fellow gays ask me why we should care about other people's moral approval. Beyond the obvious pragmatic advantages-for example, more moral approval means more favorable voting attitudes, means more legal rights, means an easier life-why should we give a damn what other people think? And while we're on the subject, why should THEY care? Why are our lives any of their business?

There's a myth circulating among well-meaning people that "morality is a private matter," and that therefore "we shouldn't judge other people." This is nonsense of the highest order. Morality is about how we treat one another. It's about fairness and justice. It's about what we as a society are willing to tolerate, what we positively encourage, and what we absolutely forbid. It is the furthest thing from a private matter.

There's a (wholly fictional) story I tell in my introductory ethics classes about a freshman who wrote a paper defending moral relativism. His paper was laden with references to what's "true for you" versus what's "true for me," what's "right for you" versus what's "right for me" and so on. The professor gave the paper an F. Surprised and angry, the student went to the professor's office demanding a justification.

"Well," the professor carefully explained, "I graded your paper the way I grade all papers. I stood at the top of a staircase and threw a batch of papers down the stairs. Those that landed on the first few stairs got A's…then B's, C's and so on. You wrote a long, heavy paper. It went to the bottom of the stairs. It got an F."

"That's not right!" the student blurted out.

"You mean, that's not right…FOR YOU," the professor responded, grinning.

The moral of the story (aside from, tenured professors do the darnedest things) is this: despite all of our talk of "right for you," deep down we believe in public moral standards. We may disagree about what those are, and about what actions fall under their purview-but we still believe that right and wrong aren't entirely relative.

One might object that grading affects other, non-consenting people, whereas relationships affect only the people involved. There are two problems with this objection. The main one is that the latter point is just false. Unless one endorses a "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" secrecy, relationships have a public presence and thus public consequences. Gays aren't waging the marriage battle just so we can all go back in the closet. Like most people, we want to stand up before family and friends, proclaim our love, have it celebrated for the beautiful thing that it is. (At least, that's what many of us want.) We want to send the message to young gays and lesbians that there's nothing wrong with them; that they, too, deserve to love and be loved, and that there's nothing sinful or wrong about that. We want to be treated equally in the eyes of the law. All of these aims affect other people in various ways.

Second, the objection invites the response, "Says who?" Who decides that only actions affecting other people are appropriate targets of moral scrutiny? Who determines that that's the right way to look at morality? And there's no way to answer such questions without engaging in a bit of moralizing. Value judgments are inescapable that way. Those who claim that they're not taking any moral stances about other people's lives are, by that very claim, taking a moral stance about other people's lives-a "tolerant' one, though not necessarily a very admirable one. Sometimes, other people's behavior is horrific, and we should say so.

"Saying so" is part of the confusion here. There's a difference between MAKING moral judgments and OFFERING them, not to mention a difference between offering them respectfully and wagging your finger in people's faces. The latter is not just self-righteous; it's generally counterproductive. I suspect when people say that "we shouldn't judge other people," it's really the latter, pompous kind of moralizing they're concerned to avoid. But we shouldn't confuse the rejection of bad moralizing with the rejection of moralizing altogether.

In short, we should care what other people think and do, because the moral fabric touches us all.