French ‘Marriage Lite’: Tr

A decade ago, Jonathan Rauch wrote in "What's Wrong with 'Marriage LIte'?" that denying gays access to marriage was resulting in domestic partnerships and civil unions that were less than full marriage but often open to heterosexuals (so as not to be seen by the left as "discriminatory" and by the right as "legitimatizing homosexuality"). That worked to weaken, not strengthen, marriage as an institution. As Jon put it, "Being against gay marriage and being pro-marriage are not, as it turns out, the same thing."

Now the Washington Post reports that, in France, Straight Couples Are Choosing Civil Unions Meant for Gays, in large numbers. "The brief procedure of the Civil Solidarity Pact, or PACS in its French-language abbreviation" are being chosen over marriage by a growing number of French men and women as "a legal and social status, halfway between living together and marriage."

PACS offer the tax and many legal benefits of marriage but:

"If one or both of the partners declares in writing to the court that he or she wants out, the PACS is ended, with neither partner having claim to the other's property or to alimony."

In other words, the couple never become a single legal and economic unit, and are far less bound than business partners.

Yet today, heterosexual couples entering into a PACS agreement has grown from 42 percent of the total initially to 92 percent last year. For every two marriages in France, a PACS is celebrated, and the number is rising steadily.

At the same time, the Post reports, "The social stigma once associated with having children outside marriage has largely disappeared.... More than half the babies in France, including those of PACSed couples, are born out of wedlock." Overall, "The relaxation of marriage-related social strictures marks a significant departure from long-established French family traditions."

Some would celebrate, declaring that marriage is an oppressive bourgeois institution. I think a more effective message is that gays want to strengthen marriage by joining it, not help to weaken it.

"Less than marriage" should, at most, be a way station for same-sex couples until society is ready to grant us marriage equality, not a permanent alternative used mostly by shacked-up straights to gain the benefits of marriage with few of the mutual responsibilities, and with no assumption of permanence.

The Power of Words

Two decades ago, when I first came out of the closet, my mother had an irritating habit of referring to my boyfriend as my "friend."

You could almost hear the scare-quotes around the word as she would speak it. "This is John's, um, 'friend.'"

When I complained to her about it, she feigned innocence. "Well, he is your friend, isn't he?"

"No, Mom, he's my boyfriend," I retorted.

"Isn't that based in friendship?" she tried.

"Mom, how would you feel if someone referred to Dad as your 'friend'?"

"That's not the same thing!"

Which was true, as far as it went. Mom and Dad had been together for decades; the boyfriend and I had been together for mere weeks. Still, he was my boyfriend, not my "friend," and I bristled every time she would use the latter term to refer to him.

Fast forward to a few weeks ago, when Mark (my partner of seven years) and I were visiting my parents in Texas. We stopped by the large salon where Mom recently started working.

I'd visited the place before, but Mark hadn't, so Mom grabbed him by the hand and started introducing him around. "Hey, everybody-I want you to meet my son-in-law."

I smiled to myself.

Mind you, there's no "law"-either where we live in Michigan or where my parents live in Texas-that recognizes the relationship Mark and I have. We have a big fat expensive binder full of powers of attorney and what-not, but legally speaking, that's it.

But "son-in-law" wasn't about legal reality. It was about our familial reality, which is far more important to Mom. (Us, too.)

The funniest part of it is that she often didn't even bother to mention his name. This pleased me. My family has a longstanding habit of referring to family members by roles instead of names. So Mom will say, "Your sister called" instead of "Jennifer called;" "It's your uncle's birthday" instead of "It's Uncle Raymond's birthday." This never struck me as odd until a high-school friend pointed it out. It's certainly inefficient ("Which uncle?") but it nicely expresses the tight fabric of our family.

Mom's comfort-level transformation happened years ago, and I wouldn't have even noticed "son-in-law" were it not for the occasional perplexed reaction it evoked. (Jennifer, who lives near my parents, is unmarried.)

"Your son-in-law?" her co-workers would ask, wondering if there was another daughter they hadn't met.

"Yes, my son's partner!" She now says it without batting an eyelash.

Notwithstanding the importance of law, these kinds of shifts will do more to bring about marriage equality than any court decision or legislative initiative.

That's not just because black-robed justices are no match for red-aproned Brooklyn-Sicilian mothers. It's because marriage is, at some level, a pre-political reality. Yes, the law creates something, but it also acknowledges something that's already present. Both roles are important.

In calling Mark her "son-in-law," Mom is saying something that is false legally but true socially. The fight for marriage equality is largely a fight to align the legal reality with the social one. And the more often ordinary people refer openly to that social reality, the easier it will be for the legal reality to catch up.

Prop. 8 Boycotts, Take Two

It might be useful to revisit the issue of Prop. 8 boycotts, now that the post-election fever has died down a bit. At least two boycotts are still in effect and in the news. The Manchester Grand Hyatt Hotel in San Diego is the subject of a boycott because its owner, Doug Manchester, gave $125,000 in seed money to get the initiative off the ground. But for Manchester's very generous donation early on, when it counted most, Prop. 8 might have gone nowhere. Bill Clinton spoke there on Sunday while protesters complained outside.

In Sacramento, Leatherby's Family Creamery, a well-established ice cream shop, is also still subject to a boycott because the family gave $20,000 to support Prop. 8. The owner, Alan Leatherby, says that while the emotions have faded, he still sees effects of the boycott more than three months after the election.

The first thing to note is that neither of these is a case of a donor giving a small amount to Prop. 8. The furor after Prop. 8 centered on people who had given tiny amounts of money and experienced consequences out of proportion to their contribution. But that legitimate concern overshadowed the issue of taking action against larger donors. Yes, there is unfairness in targeting $100 and $250 donors. But is it also unfair to boycott donors of $20,000 and $125,000? That question got lost, and shouldn't have.

The second point is that there is a difference between Leatherby and Manchester. Alan Leatherby is comfortable defending his donation publicly, and says he answers emails and phone calls about his donation. He had lunch with a 70-year old gay man who contacted him. In contrast, Manchester, like many other large donors, seems to have disappeared into an undisclosed secure location.

I can respect Leatherby. I won't be patronizing his shop, since I believe he is wrong and misunderstands the religious text we share. But he is willing to discuss his beliefs, and that is both honorable and civic-minded. Manchester, and those who won't personally engage the debate at all, are the real danger, not only to gay rights, but to democracy. No one is obliged to articulate their reasoning, but given the size of his donation, Manchester's silence suggests either that he does not have a defense or, more disturbingly, does not care about the consequences of his donation.

In this, Manchester is like Bill Clinton, who hid behind a spokesman and, himself, remained silent in his speech at the hotel about why there were protesters outside. I was a strong supporter of Clinton, and truly believed he understood gay equality, but was confounded by the high-wire of this issue's politics. But now it increasingly appears he really does not care very much, like Doug Manchester, about the damage he causes. I'm not sure how you boycott an ex-president, but I'm wondering if that might be possible.

Know on 8

With a switch of just two percent of the votes, the leaders of the "No on 8" campaign would today be heroes. We'd be lauding their powerful advertising campaign. We'd be celebrating their coalition-building. We'd wonder at their unprecedented fund-raising prowess. And we'd still have gay marriage in California.

But life is a vale of tears, so the conventional wisdom is that the leaders of No on 8 are clueless cowards who squandered a large lead in a blue state in a bright blue year.

Never mind that they were trying to overcome deeply embedded views about something Americans think is the foundation of responsible family life.

Never mind that winning on Prop 8 would have been a first for gay marriage at the polls anywhere in America (except for a brief win in Arizona in 2006, reversed in 2008), including in blue states like Oregon and Wisconsin.

Never mind that the early public polls suggesting a big defeat for Prop 8 were never reliable, and were criticized as such at the time. There was no lead to be squandered.

Everybody now seems to know what went wrong on Prop 8. But the truth is, nobody really knows how that extra two percent might have been persuaded to vote "no."

The main "problem" identified by many critics is that the campaign left gay people invisible. Anti-Prop 8 literature made no mention of gays, instead complaining that it was "unfair" and "wrong" to discriminate against an unnamed group of people. The television ads didn't portray gay families.

This deliberate omission deeply offends a lot of people. The gay-rights command of the past forty years has been to come out. The logic was recently summed up by veteran lesbian activist Robin Tyler at a post-Prop 8 "Equality Summit" in Los Angeles. "When you get to know us," she said, "you don't want to discriminate against us." No on 8 was a "know-nothing" campaign.

Campaign leaders have defended the know-nothing approach as the only way to win. Political consultants, whom we're told know better about such things than ordinary mortals, advised them that frank images of homosexuals would turn off persuadable voters. An "openly gay" campaign would not have won. It would have lost by an even larger margin, they claim.

The political professionals may be right. The error of the know-nothing critique is that it treats a strategy for winning the culture war (come out) as a tactic for winning a ballot battle. Coming out is an interpersonal act that works because the person already knows and likes you. It's not something you tell forty million strangers expecting their immediate understanding and support. Contrary to Tyler's admonition, can you really "know us" via thirty second ads aired over a period of a few months?

But there are a couple of potential problems with the adult, responsible, realistic, political-consultant perspective. First, to know whether it's right we'd need to see the actual data - the polling, the focus-group analysis - that underlie this judgment. My untutored sense is that focus groups and polls are often applied too statically and mechanically to real-life politics, which are dynamic and contextualized. Focus groups might have loved New Coke, but the public didn't.

Second, there's a paradox here. Almost everyone agrees that victory in the gay-marriage struggle ultimately requires the deep cultural shift brought on by coming out, by acquainting Americans with the real problems faced by real gay families, and by showing them how gay people are no threat to their own churches, families, and values.

We aren't going to fool people into supporting gay marriage. We can't just coldly claim legal rights. We may persuade gay activists that it's "wrong" and "unfair" to eliminate rights created five minutes ago by four judges. But most people don't believe there's a right to something that's not right. And they need to know a lot more about gay families over a long period to reach the conclusion that gay marriage is right.

How can that be done without talking about actual gay people? And when will it be done on a large scale except when we have the resources and energy to do it, as we do in a ballot fight? Winning in the end may depend on losing a few preliminary rounds in a way that progressively erodes the opposition. Instead, in every single ballot fight in thirty states, we have squandered the opportunity to educate voters for the future. Losing smartly now means winning later; losing ignorantly just means endless losing.

None of this is to say that the know-nothing choice made by No on 8 leaders was wrong in its context. My sense is that leaders of No on 8 reasonably thought they were within striking distance of winning and let their analysis overcome their instincts. They placed the safest bet available and narrowly lost.

Some people would say on principle that we should always reject "closet" tactics, regardless of the political consequences. That's too hard and pure for my taste. If we could have secured marriage in California in 2008 by parading Dykes on Bikes before the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, I would have done that. If we could have won by replaying Pat Robertson's meteorological ruminations, I would have done that, too.

But the hard truth is that in the long run, and in other places, we'll need less "No" and more "Know."

Is It Legal to Say ‘Double-Standard’?

Read to the bottom of this New York Times story for a revealing tidbit. The Brits bar entry of a Dutch politician and provocateur on grounds that he offends Muslims. Yet they have admitted "several Muslim clerics from Arab countries with a history of inflammatory statements on terrorism, women's rights and homosexuality." Increasingly this seems to be the pattern in Europe. Fear, rather than principle, appears to be at work, and apparently homosexuals aren't scary. But then, that's how it always is with speech restrictions.

Be Mine

One of the most interesting and, I think, positive developments in the gay rights movement is the current evolution of our national holiday from Halloween to Valentine's Day.

Gays helped change Halloween from its tame, American children's incarnation into a street festival for gay and straight adults. The celebrations grew so large in West Hollywood and the Castro that local government had to step in to enforce some limits. This adult Halloween is a party where people can play with individual identity, not to mention with each other.

Valentine's Day is about relationships - specifically romantic relationships. From kiss-ins in Boulder, to marriage license requests (denied) at county offices across the nation, we're storming Valentine's Day.

And how could we not? There is no more obvious example of our exclusion from the central organizing principle of most people's lives than this celebration of the fundamental love our society elevates for heterosexuals, but ignores the existence of among homosexuals.

Halloween is the context in which most heterosexuals have traditionally viewed us. But they have to see us on Valentine's Day as well, celebrating not just our identities but our loves. Valentine's Day is (you should pardon the necessary pun) the very heart of our movement.

Would Sam Adams No Longer Be Mayor If He Were Straight?

That's the question posed by the Portland-based writer Taylor Clark over at Slate. The sex scandal currently roiling the Pacific Coast city has all the makings of a steamy soap opera (and then some -- I mean, really, Beau Breedlove?). It's attracted an inordinate amount of attention not only because of the dramatic nature of the charges (kissing in the City Hall bathroom!) but because the individuals involved happen to be gay.

Clark argues that were Adams straight, he would have resigned long ago. She makes the extra special effort to make clear that she's not the sort of person who believes that one's sexuality should affect the way we view these matters. Rather, in liberal Portland, "When you look out on the pro-Adams crowds," you don't just see gays and political hacks dependent upon the mayor's patronage championing his cause. The bulk of the people coming to his public defense are "young, educated liberals who feel unqualified to spit venom about Adams' sex life-despite the fact that they'd be far less restrained with a straight politician." That liberals would hold gays to a favorable double-standard when it comes to sexual behavior is probably true and troublesome. But it's the topic of another column. Yet as far as explaining why Adams hasn't yet departed office, I'd say it's logically sound. L'affair Adams could only play out in a handful of cities across America, Portland being near the top of the list. But Clark leaves unexplored another angle to the world of gay sex scandals that might explain why Adams is still in office.

A look at past sex scandals involving gay politicians would be instructive. Barney Frank, who was censured by his colleagues in the House of Representatives for fixing an the parking tickets of an erstwhile lover who was simultaneously running a brothel out of Frank's home, ultimately survived, in spite of many calls for his resignation. The scandal had little effect on Frank's political fortunes; he's since risen to become one of the most visible and powerful Democrats in the House. Perhaps were it not for his scandal Frank would be speaker by now, but there's really no way of knowing. After all, Frank's prostitute/parking ticket problems didn't stop him from becoming Chairman of the House Financial Services Committee nor the most visible (and eloquent) defender of Bill Clinton during the impeachment process.

The other prominent gay political scandal in recent memory was that of Mark Foley. Unlike Adams, Foley never touched the objects of his illicit affection, never mind carry on an affair with them and then lie about it to the media.Yet literally within minutes of the dirty instant messages hitting headlines, Foley had already resigned, hitched a flight out of DC, and announced he was entering rehab. It wasn't until last year that Florida and federal officials announced that Foley hadn't broken any law. What can explain the different ways in which Adams, Frank and Foley were treated?

Party affiliation. Sam Adams and Barney Frank are both Democrats, whereas Mark Foley is a Republican. It didn't matter that Foley had a rather sterling record on gay rights issues, the mere fact that he was a member of the GOP was enough to garner the outrage of the Gay Left. Perhaps the fact that Adams is just a mayor, whereas Foley a congressman, explains the different responses. But Barney Frank, after all, was a congressman during his own brouhaha. Moreover, in this internet-driven world, the details of the love life of Sam Adams and Beau Breedlove are available to anyone in the country and have been scrutinized by major national media.

Sure, Foley wasn't exactly open about being gay (nor was he exactly closeted), yet I see little reason why a semi-closeted, pro-gay politician mired in a pseudo-sex scandal should be the recipient of such massive levels of hostility and ridicule whereas an openly gay politician mired in a real one ought earn largely unmitigated sympathy. In other words, if every aspect of the saga of Sam Adams were the same save his party affiliation he would have flown the coop yesterday.

Dems Find Something to Cut

In response to conservative criticism, Senate Democrats dropped $400 million in HIV prevention funding from their trillion dollar "stimulus" spending bill. (I know, AIDS is not necessarily a "gay" issue, but the Washington Blade put this on their front page, so I'm going to comment on it.)

AIDS activists protested: "Michael Weinstein, president of the AIDS Healthcare Foundation...said critics are wrong in claiming HIV- or STD-related programs don't boost the economy."

That's an understandable response from a lobby, but it misses the point. The question isn't whether HIV prevention programs are economic stimulus; of course they're not. But then, neither is most of the spending in this monstrosity of a bill. And if it's going to provide billions to fund other non-job creating liberal-left initiatives, such as research into global warming, along with giving billions to the states to spend on whatever they please (i.e., pork), then just why not HIV prevention?

The answer is that Senate Dems felt that this was the one area they would be prudent to surrender. That's telling.

More. Yes, I realize that some relatively small, additional cuts have now been made from the original House bill, first in the Senate version and later as part of the Senate-House reconciliation . But as reader Avee comments, there remains in the bill massive amounts of funding for social initiatives that have nothing realistically to do with job creation. And the HIV funding was one of the first that was dropped (and from the original, totally larded-up House version), which is what I found to be telling.

Furthermore. Will the stimulus actually stimulate? Economists say no. And this, from Cato.

San Diego Firefighters Case: Hot or Not?

The U.S. legal system mirrors our binary culture, where the public -- and, more specifically, the press -- craves either/or decisions. It is in that frame where drama is intensified, and we do love our drama.

The case of the San Diego firefighters forced by their superiors to ride in a fire truck in a gay pride parade shows the limits of binary thinking. Here is a case where everyone is wrong - or, more charitably, where each side is only right enough that they could bring a plausible case to court.

Why on earth did the fire department need to force some unwilling employees to appear in a parade they quite clearly were not anxious to participate in? If there really were not enough firefighters who would voluntarily ride on the truck in the parade, then the department's purported message about being gay friendly would seem to have a hole or two in it.

On the other hand, is riding in a gay pride parade really sexual harassment? Under the creepingly generous interpretations that term has received over the years, that's possible. But, as SNL's Seth Meyers might say, "Really?" Can the reactions of some crowd members in a public event really amount to the kind of sexual harassment envisioned by the long-ago drafters of this law?

More broadly, the firefighters' complaint shows one of the most invidious harms homophobia causes. Many heterosexual men still find it not just unpleasant, but actionable to be viewed as attractive by other men - though this is clearly changing pretty radically. Sexual harassment law provides the only context where being viewed as attractive is something to sue over.

Is the fear of homosexuality really so powerful that heterosexual men would not want to accept this pretty common compliment -- particularly for those heterosexual men who feel free, themselves, to dish a similar compliment out to random women. Sometimes a compliment is just a compliment, guys.

The case is now before a jury for the second time, after a first jury could not come to a verdict. The original jury seems to have got it right.

Hate the Sin…Shun the Sinner

I've written in this column of my friendship with Glenn Stanton, a Focus on the Family employee whom I regularly debate on same-sex marriage.

There are different kinds of friendship, of course, not to mention different levels and layers. We're not "best buds," but we're not merely work acquaintances either. Despite our deep disagreements-which we express publicly and vigorously-we genuinely enjoy each other's company.

And so I looked forward to Glenn's recent Michigan visit to debate me at Saginaw Valley State University. Glenn would fly into Detroit on a Monday night and depart on Wednesday morning; on Tuesday we would drive the 100 miles to Saginaw together.

Naturally, I invited him to stay with my partner and me. Mark and I have two guest rooms, each with a private bath; we often entertain houseguests.

"You invited WHO to your house?" another friend asked incredulously. "The religious-right guy? I can't believe you'd welcome such a person in your home."

But I couldn't imagine doing otherwise. Even if Glenn were not a friend-even if he were just another debate opponent with whom I was traveling-I would have extended the invitation. I come from a family where hospitality is second nature. And while I am not a Christian, I find Jesus' lessons on hospitality to be some of the most moving parts of the Gospels.

So I extended the invitation, and Glenn accepted immediately. We talked about checking out the Henry Ford museum and other Detroit landmarks. I asked him, as I ask all guests, whether there was anything special he'd like us to have on hand for breakfast.

Then, on the day of his planned arrival, I got the phone call.

Glenn explained that he felt unable to stay with us, and so he had booked a hotel instead. On the advice of his colleagues he decided that staying at our home wouldn't be "prudent." It might suggest the endorsement of our relationship, and thus send the wrong message to Focus constituents.

This struck me as nonsense, and I told him so. Glenn has expressed his moral disapproval of homosexuality in his writing, in our public debates, and in our private conversations. Staying under our roof could hardly eclipse all of that. His disapproval is beyond dispute.

For example, in his Christianity Today article about our friendship, he affirmed his "opposition to all sexual relationships that are not between a husband and wife," and argued that whatever virtues might exist in a gay relationship (honesty, kindness, dedication), they did not redeem homosexuality itself.

But in the same article, he also described us as "dear friends." He elaborated:

"John and I constantly hear disbelief at how we can be so opposed on such a life-shaping issue yet remain friends…John has hosted me at his own campus and had me to his beautiful home."

Indeed I did. That visit was for a meal. This one would be for a place to sleep. I couldn't see the substantive difference.

Of course, I can speculate. A meal takes place in the dining room, whereas sleeping takes place in bedrooms, where you-know-what occurs. Glenn would be just yards away-albeit past thick plaster walls and behind closed doors-from whatever it is that Mark and I do in bed.

FYI, here's a play-by-play account of what Mark and I do in bed, at 1 a.m., after a two-hour post-debate drive: (1) I climb in trying not to wake him. (2) He grunts and rolls over. (3) We sleep.

I'm not naïve about the culture at Focus on the Family, but I was still angered and hurt by that phone call.

That's partly because of my family's culture of hospitality. Glenn's decision to stay at a hotel was like telling Grandma that you'd rather go to a restaurant than eat her food. Italian-Americans (like many other cultures) take such things seriously.

It's partly because I've defended both Glenn and Focus against charges of hypocrisy and have taken a lot of flak in the process. "Sure, John, they claim to be your friend. But just wait…"

It's partly because of the gross incongruence of calling someone a "dear friend" but not being able to stay in his home.

And it's partly because it underscores the ugly myths that I fight against every day, even in my debates with Glenn.

The opposition claims that they're interested in truth. But the reality of our lives-the fact that we brew our coffee and toast our English muffins just like everyone else-seems too much for them to handle.