Here we go again. Every presidential year since 2004, gay marriage winds up in the middle of the national political crossfire. This November, it could be on the ballot in six states; just this past week, Gov. Chris Christie called for a statewide vote in New Jersey, and gay-rights activists delivered signatures for an initiative in Maine. Though same-sex marriage is gradually gaining ground, it will remain a bitterly contested, polarizing issue for years to come.
Imagine an alternative dimension where both sides of the American culture wars come together to reduce strife and polarization. Not in our galaxy? Certainly not in Washington. But in Utah? Maybe.
In 2008, California’s voters approved Proposition 8, which rescinded court-ordered same-sex marriage. Some angry gay activists then boycotted or protested businesses that employed Prop 8 supporters, even if all the supporters did was donate $100.
We don’t know how many people actually lost jobs because of these heavy-handed tactics. Probably very few. But never mind; the stratagem became the story. “Prop 8 Foes Turn to ‘Blacklist’ Tactics,” shouted a USA Today headline. Justified or not, fear spread in conservative circles that getting on the wrong side of gay marriage could cost you your job. “People tell us that their livelihoods have been threatened solely because of their public advocacy opposing same-sex marriage,” said Maggie Gallagher, founder of the National Organization for Marriage.
“Fine,” say some gay rights activists. “If they’re going to be bigots, they should be afraid to speak out.” Wrong. What the gay-rights movement has always really stood for is a country where we can all express our identities and convictions without fear: a country without closets, gay or straight.
On precisely that principle, gay civil rights groups have for years pressed for laws protecting gays from workplace discrimination, with only spotty success. At the federal level, the Employment Non-Discrimination Act has been stalled for years. Cultural conservatives insist it enshrines “special rights.”
Enter Ben McAdams and Derek Brown. And a new idea.
McAdams is a 37-year-old Utah state senator, a Democrat (and straight). In 2009, working for the mayor of Salt Lake City, he helped pass an ordinance adding sexual orientation to the city’s employment discrimination law. In a breakthrough, the Mormon church supported the measure. Today 12 other Utah cities have followed suit, and most Utahans favor nondiscrimination coverage for gays. But the state Legislature balked last year at McAdams’ bill banning anti-gay job discrimination statewide.
So this month he proposed something different. A new version of the bill bars employment discrimination based not only on sexual orientation but also on political speech or activity (provided the politics is outside the workplace and unrelated to work).
“I wanted something that could bring the community together,” McAdams said. “This changes the dialogue from the angry dialogue of accusation to a respectful dialogue. If we want respect, we need to give respect.”
The bill is bipartisan. Its co-sponsor is a 40-year-old Republican state House member, Derek Brown. “Both principles are worthwhile,” he said, “and both are concepts I would vote for in and of themselves, but when you pull them both together in one bill, it’s a much more powerful statement that we don’t discriminate, period. Bringing the two sides together where we can focus on the similarities is the only long-term answer we have.”
The state Chamber of Commerce has announced its support. Also on board is Equality Utah, the state’s leading gay civil rights group. After a “spirited” internal debate, the group decided that fear is a weapon best dropped.
“We all benefit when people can engage in civil and honest dialogue about their beliefs,” said Brandie Balken, the group’s executive director. “That’s what we’re asking for, to be included in a safe and fair environment where we can be our authentic selves. When people fear repercussions for speaking out about their beliefs, we end up in this really stifling silence, and there’s no opportunity for honest discussion in that space.”
Ah, but will cultural conservatives support the bill? That remains to be seen. Hard-core anti-gay groups will oppose anything they deem pro-gay, no matter what else is attached. For more mainstream conservatives, the Brown-McAdams measure poses an interesting test. To paraphrase LBJ, do they want a bill or do they want an issue?
There is a libertarian case against regulating workplace discrimination, but conservatives gave up making that case years ago — except for gays. In Utah and in the U.S., anti-discrimination laws now cover race, color, sex, religion, national origin, disability and sometimes more, all uncontroversially. Homosexuality is conspicuous by its absence. Here, then, is a chance for conservatives who have made their peace with other anti-discrimination laws to make the world safer for both sides of the gay rights debate, which is what they say they want. The question is: Will they take it?
Full disclosure: In a conversation with McAdams a couple of months ago, I suggested the idea of including political speech in an anti-discrimination law. Still, I think I can say with some dispassion that the McAdams-Brown idea deserves a test. If the bill succeeds in Utah, it could provide a template for other states, and perhaps even (dare we hope?) for the woebegone federal government. Even if it falls a few votes short, it will have made a statement: Freedom to express your core values without fear of losing your livelihood is an equal right, not a special right.
Imagine an alternative dimension where both sides of the American culture wars come together to reduce strife and polarization. Not in our galaxy? Certainly not in Washington. But in Utah? Maybe.
In 2008, California’s voters approved Proposition 8, which rescinded court-ordered same-sex marriage. Some angry gay activists then boycotted or protested businesses that employed Prop 8 supporters, even if all the supporters did was donate $100.
We don’t know how many people actually lost jobs because of these heavy-handed tactics. Probably very few. But never mind; the stratagem became the story. “Prop 8 Foes Turn to ‘Blacklist’ Tactics,” shouted a USA Today headline. Justified or not, fear spread in conservative circles that getting on the wrong side of gay marriage could cost you your job. “People tell us that their livelihoods have been threatened solely because of their public advocacy opposing same-sex marriage,” said Maggie Gallagher, founder of the National Organization for Marriage.
“Fine,” say some gay rights activists. “If they’re going to be bigots, they should be afraid to speak out.” Wrong. What the gay-rights movement has always really stood for is a country where we can all express our identities and convictions without fear: a country without closets, gay or straight.
On precisely that principle, gay civil rights groups have for years pressed for laws protecting gays from workplace discrimination, with only spotty success. At the federal level, the Employment Non-Discrimination Act has been stalled for years. Cultural conservatives insist it enshrines “special rights.”
Enter Ben McAdams and Derek Brown. And a new idea.
McAdams is a 37-year-old Utah state senator, a Democrat (and straight). In 2009, working for the mayor of Salt Lake City, he helped pass an ordinance adding sexual orientation to the city’s employment discrimination law. In a breakthrough, the Mormon church supported the measure. Today 12 other Utah cities have followed suit, and most Utahans favor nondiscrimination coverage for gays. But the state Legislature balked last year at McAdams’ bill banning anti-gay job discrimination statewide.
So this month he proposed something different. A new version of the bill bars employment discrimination based not only on sexual orientation but also on political speech or activity (provided the politics is outside the workplace and unrelated to work).
“I wanted something that could bring the community together,” McAdams said. “This changes the dialogue from the angry dialogue of accusation to a respectful dialogue. If we want respect, we need to give respect.”
The bill is bipartisan. Its co-sponsor is a 40-year-old Republican state House member, Derek Brown. “Both principles are worthwhile,” he said, “and both are concepts I would vote for in and of themselves, but when you pull them both together in one bill, it’s a much more powerful statement that we don’t discriminate, period. Bringing the two sides together where we can focus on the similarities is the only long-term answer we have.”
The state Chamber of Commerce has announced its support. Also on board is Equality Utah, the state’s leading gay civil rights group. After a “spirited” internal debate, the group decided that fear is a weapon best dropped.
“We all benefit when people can engage in civil and honest dialogue about their beliefs,” said Brandie Balken, the group’s executive director. “That’s what we’re asking for, to be included in a safe and fair environment where we can be our authentic selves. When people fear repercussions for speaking out about their beliefs, we end up in this really stifling silence, and there’s no opportunity for honest discussion in that space.”
Ah, but will cultural conservatives support the bill? That remains to be seen. Hard-core anti-gay groups will oppose anything they deem pro-gay, no matter what else is attached. For more mainstream conservatives, the Brown-McAdams measure poses an interesting test. To paraphrase LBJ, do they want a bill or do they want an issue?
There is a libertarian case against regulating workplace discrimination, but conservatives gave up making that case years ago — except for gays. In Utah and in the U.S., anti-discrimination laws now cover race, color, sex, religion, national origin, disability and sometimes more, all uncontroversially. Homosexuality is conspicuous by its absence. Here, then, is a chance for conservatives who have made their peace with other anti-discrimination laws to make the world safer for both sides of the gay rights debate, which is what they say they want. The question is: Will they take it?
Full disclosure: In a conversation with McAdams a couple of months ago, I suggested the idea of including political speech in an anti-discrimination law. Still, I think I can say with some dispassion that the McAdams-Brown idea deserves a test. If the bill succeeds in Utah, it could provide a template for other states, and perhaps even (dare we hope?) for the woebegone federal government. Even if it falls a few votes short, it will have made a statement: Freedom to express your core values without fear of losing your livelihood is an equal right, not a special right.
