IGF CultureWatch

Barack Obama believes that marriage should be between a man and a woman. Yet he opposes the California ballot initiative that would write that view into the state constitution, calling it "divisive and discriminatory." What gives?

Obama's not alone in this apparent contradiction: Arnold Schwarzenegger, the state's Republican governor, holds a similar juxtaposition of beliefs: that marriage should be between a man and a woman, and that the state's supreme court did the right thing by declaring California's ban on same-sex marriage unconstitutional. (Thanks to the court's decision, California began marrying same-sex couples on June 16-an activity the ballot initiative aims to stop.)

Meanwhile, presumptive Republican presidential nominee John McCain disapproves of the court's decision and supports the initiative to overturn it. Yet McCain, Schwarzenegger and Obama all agree that decisions about marriage should be left to the states.

Confused yet?

For simplicity's sake, let's focus on Obama, and let's start with the last issue first: marriage should be left to the states. There's no contradiction in holding that states (as opposed to the federal government) should set marriage policy, while also holding an opinion about which policy they ought to favor.

But that still leaves the question: according to Obama, which policy should they favor? Heterosexual-only marriage, or marriage equality?

The answer depends upon what Obama means by "I personally believe that marriage is between a man and a woman." Does he mean it as a matter of personal preference, as when I say, "I personally believe that martinis should be made with gin (but by all means, have a vodka martini if you want one)"? Or does he mean it as a matter of public policy?

At first glance, Obama seems to be skating the line between the two. His endorsement of robust federal civil unions-but not marriage-for same-sex couples suggests a public-policy stance against full marriage equality. (By "full marriage equality," I mean extending marriage to gays, not creating a "separate but equal" institution under a different name.) By contrast, his remarks on California suggest a mere personal preference that he doesn't feel compelled to write into law.

There's a third option as well. Perhaps Obama's belief that "marriage is between a man and a woman" is stronger than personal preference (as in my gin martini example) but still not something he wants to codify legally. Perhaps he holds a religious or moral objection to same-sex marriage-not merely in the sense of "I don't want this for myself" but in the sense of "No one ought morally to choose this." Would he then be inconsistent for supporting the California decision?

Not necessarily. In a pluralistic free society, not every moral conviction can be-or should be-enshrined in law.

That's not just because doing so would be unwieldy and impractical. And it's not just because some laws have unintended and undesirable consequences. As important as those reasons are, they miss the key point.

That point is that securing our freedom sometimes requires giving others the freedom to behave in ways of which we disapprove. As former New York Governor Mario Cuomo once put it, discussing the relationship between his Catholic faith and his policy positions:

"The Catholic public official lives the political truth … that to assure our freedom we must allow others the same freedom, even if occasionally it produces conduct by them which we would hold to be sinful…. We know that the price of seeking to force our beliefs on others is that they might some day force theirs on us."

I'm not suggesting that Obama thinks same-sex marriage is sinful-I frankly doubt that he does. I am suggesting that there's a way to believe, consistently, that marriage should be heterosexual and that it would be a mistake to stand in the way of those who hold otherwise.

Obama might also-quite reasonably-worry that the amendment would do more than stop same-sex marriage. It could also strip away domestic partnership benefits, including health care, as amendments in other states have done. That might help explain his "divisive and discriminatory" charge.

Of course, to say that these reasons would render Obama's positions consistent is not to say that they're motivating him. More likely, his positions are motivated by political reality. He can't afford to alienate gay-supportive Democrats by opposing same-sex marriage, and he can't afford to alienate mainstream voters by endorsing it. So he does both, and neither.

Obama isn't unique in trying to have it both ways. It's not about logic-it's about politics.

What does it mean to be an American?

Some people seem to think it means wearing a flag pin. Or slapping a "Support Our Troops" bumper sticker on the family auto. Or singing "God Bless America." Or putting our hand over our hearts when the national anthem plays.

But these things have nothing to do with being an American at all. They are only rituals, expressions of blind patriotism. They are, I suppose, a sign of nominal respect, but really they are lip service. Anyone, after all, can wave the American flag, no matter what they believe.

No, to be an American is to cradle American values in our hearts - and the first of these is our bone-deep love of liberty.

We show this love not by proclaiming it or wearing it on our sleeve, but by acting in it's service - that is, by exercising our political rights. By voting, for example. Or running for office. Or speaking out to ensure that the state recognizes that we are all created with certain inalienable rights, and whether we are gay or straight, we should have access to them.

Not long ago, I visited Philadelphia to see the Liberty Bell. The Liberty Bell was the abolitionist icon and it should be the gay icon, too. The bell hangs solidly now in a fragile glass room, overwhelming the visitors who solemnly stand beside it to have their pictures taken. It hasn't pealed since 1846, and yet the message it rings out is explosive.

"Proclaim liberty," it reads, "throughout all the land."

Liberty is a dangerous notion. It means that the poorest have as many rights as presidents; that someone doesn't need moral approval from the majority in order to be a full citizen. We are moved by the Liberty Bell, but it isn't because of its craftsmanship. No, we love the Liberty Bell because of the crack that divides the bronze without sundering it.

We love the bell for reminding us both that freedom is vulnerable and that divisions of opinion don't destroy it.

America is that bell. Solid, loud, divided in its unity. That very division, in fact, is what makes us American. Homogeneity is for dictatorships, theocracies, kingdoms. Diversity and division, not obedience and trust, is what ultimately gives strength and beauty to democracy.

Liberty means freedom, and we now understand that freedom is the ability to have full political agency, whether you're male or female, black or white, gay or straight. To be an American is to exercise this agency. To be a gay American is to remind others that there is nothing more American than fighting for our fundamental rights.

Unlike flag pins or car stickers, the Liberty Bell isn't a symbol about bowing to blind patriotism. It isn't about doing things the way they've always been done in order to convince someone (who?) that you're a good American.

The Liberty Bell shows us that to be a good American, in fact, is to keep liberty - not patriotism - in our hearts.

For gay citizens, this is especially important. No one needs to approve of us. Not the president, not the courts, not the legislature, not a majority of citizens. Approval is not what we're seeking. And the Liberty Bell isn't about that, isn't about moral approval. It's about the clear, deep tone of freedom.

What GLBTs are looking for is what is promised to every American - liberty and the freedom to pursue happiness.

I love how Independence Day follows Pride so closely each year. They seem to go together, Pride and Independence. America was won not because people bowed to the conservative majority - majorities are always conservative - but because they rebelled.

They didn't go along to get along. They took risks and fought for their rights as citizens and human beings.

This is what we do, too. Every day that LGBTs march for our rights, write our Congressional representatives, expose governmental hypocrisy on our blogs, talk to others about equality, is a day that we are taking a stand for liberty.

Pride shouldn't stop - doesn't stop - at the end of June. It continues into July, where the gay story becomes part of the American story.

Let's ring our bell. Fighting for equal rights is fighting for liberty. And in America, liberty rings for us all.

"What we have is a culture in which we no longer define ourselves according to our similarities but according to our differences. We are proud of our unique qualities and want everyone else to appreciate these traits, too. ... We also devalue commonality in favor of radical uniqueness. We are more interested in freedom of expression than in commitment to unity."

I ran across this quotation in evangelical authors George Barna and Mark Hatch's interesting book Boiling Point (Regal Books, 2001). The quotation might seem to have been more appropriate to my companion piece last week on "Diversity" except that diversity seems to be about different groupings. Barna and Hatch aren't talking about diversity. They are talking about individuality. Barna and Hatch see individuality as a cultural threat; I see it as an essential component of our culture.

When I was growing up, some people worried about the threat of "conformity"-of people taking their cue for what to believe and how to live from their friends and neighbors. People were said to be "other directed" rather than "inner directed." But at the same time, the whole goal of our educational system was to produce compliant, obedient citizens, thoroughly "adjusted"-that was a key term-young social units.

I will give just one example. When I was in eighth grade, our English class made a field trip to the nearby branch library. Then at our next class we broke into working groups and were told to sketch out a floor plan of the library and show where various types of books were. I was a frequent visitor to the library and knew it well. My group got the floor plan badly wrong, a fact I pointed out. I must have done so quite vociferously because after class the teacher called me up to her desk.

"Paul," she began. "The purpose of this exercise is to learn to work with groups of other people." "But they got the floor plan all wrong," I protested. "Go to the library. You'll see." "Paul," she replied, "that doesn't matter. The purpose is to learn how to work with other people." "But they're wrong," I insisted. "It doesn't matter," she repeated. Shaken, I had the feeling that I had just gained a valuable insight into the contemporary culture.

With that background, you can see why my suspicions are raised any time I hear calls for unity or solidarity or any similar goal. Calls for national unity, religious unity, racial unity, community unity often amount to nothing more than the demand that other people agree with the speaker and do things his (or her) way. It sounds like it means "Get with the program," "Follow the Party Line," suppress your doubts, don't express disagreement.

Each Pride season just as we hear ritualistic praise for "diversity" (referring to groups not individuals), we hear equally ritualistic calls for "unity." But it is never specified what we are supposed to be united about. Early in the gay movement, I think most people took the term to urge gays to work together for the elimination of prejudice and discrimination. In other words, they didn't want unity so much as they wanted to promote involvement and cooperation on specific tasks.

Nowadays, as the gay movement has achieved more of its goals and our opponents (I trust, I hope) are on the defensive, I am not so sure what unity is about, or how it is supposed to be demonstrated. We don't seem to be in agreement on goals: Most of us support gay marriage, whether we personally want to marry or not. But there are people who oppose gay marriage as, oh, you know, the usual claptrap about patriarchal institutions, as if that could apply to two men or two women.

But we also disagree about tactics. Many people, especially gay leaders, opposed California gay couples' filing suit to obtain marriage rights. Opponents said it was the wrong time, the wrong route, guaranteed to get slapped down by the court. And it may yet-by California voters this November. Opinion was legitimately divided. That's not a bad thing; it's a good thing.

We are not of one mind about whether drag queens are entertaining expressions of gay creativity or self-promoting parasites who serve to confirm heterosexuals' views of gay men as feminine. We are not unified on whether transgenders and transsexuals are part of the gay community-particularly if they are not homosexual.

Does the fact that we are all gay produce any real "unity"? Maybe on Gay Pride Day. But otherwise, I often think the only thing that unites us is the desire to have a good time.