The Gay Marriage Story Jo Becker Needs to Hear


Posted on April 23rd, 2014 by Cindy Gao
 2 comments  

FRANK-Book-Pic-Medium-e1390314781757From Center for Gender and Sexuality Law Visiting Scholar Nathaniel Frank, originally published in Slate on April 22nd.

One fall day in 1990, Ninia Baehr found herself with an ear infection and no health insurance. When the pain became unbearable, she and her partner, Genora Dancel, called Bill Woods, a lawyer at a Honolulu gay and lesbian community center, to see if there were any options for domestic-partner insurance benefits. Woods said no, but as it happened he’d been looking for couples to challenge the Hawaii law barring gay couples from getting married. He asked Baehr and Dancel if they’d join. Dancel, who wasn’t out to her family, was hesitant, and thought hard about it. “I said to myself, ‘This is what my life has led up to,’ ” she recalled. “I’m tired of being treated differently, and I have as much right as anyone else to get married.” The next morning, Baehr and Dancel, along with two other couples, applied for a marriage license from the Hawaii Health Department. They were denied. So they decided to sue. A revolution had begun.

If you get hold of Forcing the Spring, a much-touted new book out today, you could be forgiven for thinking that revolution began 15 years later, in 2008. And that the success of gay marriage—it is now allowed in 17 states and the District of Columbia, supported by a solid majority of Americans, and poised to be legal nationwide in a matter of years—was not the product of intrepid gay activists who bravely came out, demanded dignity, and slowly but indefatigably brought the world along with them. Rather, it came about due to a tiny group of gay and straight strategists and lawyers who started the movement nearly from scratch six short years ago—against the wishes of hapless gay leaders who had run their movement into the ground.

“This is how a revolution begins,” commences Jo Becker, a Pulitzer Prize-winning New York Times reporter, in her new book, explaining that the gay marriage movement had “languished in obscurity” until 2008, when a young political consultant named Chad Griffin grew impatient and deployed his “unique ability” to leverage his Hollywood connections to “rebrand a cause.” It was a cause, argues Becker, that had to be rescued from established gay advocates who had spent 40 years doing virtually nothing worth mentioning in a major history of the marriage-equality battle. The book, excerpted in Sunday’s New York Times Magazine, focuses on Ted Olson and, to a lesser extent, David Boies, two straight lawyers recruited by Griffin and funded, initially, by Hollywood stars to challenge California’s Proposition 8, the 2008 ballot initiative that revoked gay marriage in that state. Olson and Boies were on opposite sides of the 2000 Supreme Court battle that landed George W. Bush in the White House, and their teaming up to fight for gay marriage was a brilliant coup by Griffin. Olson’s conservative bona fides and eloquence in embracing the cause of gay marriage was enormously valuable in growing support for the cause just as it was reaching a tipping point.

Yet that’s a far cry from suggesting that this small, well-heeled group was responsible for bringing the nation gay marriage, or for a major leap in public approval, something that was in the works long before these players arrived on the scene, and which was jolted forward by widespread national anger against Prop 8, not just the anger of Chad Griffin and Ted Olson.

The actual revolution that led to gay marriage began, of course, not in a spacious San Francisco hotel suite in 2008 but on the streets of New York in 1969, when LGBTQ activists got tired of perpetual abuse and chose to fight a police raid at the Stonewall Inn. This remarkable uprising, which built on earlier efforts that can be traced back to the first gay rights organization in Chicago in 1924, led to gay marriage lawsuits in the early 1970s that were laughed out of court but were followed by the victorious 1993 Hawaii ruling that launched the gay marriage revolution.

And let’s be clear how we’re using revolution. This revolution began within the LGBTQ movement, which had been split over thoughtful, principled differences about the value and role of marriage in the social structure and, specifically, for the LGBTQ population. It was not a split between appeasers of the forces of inequality and heroic young proponents of change who were the first to consider that barring gays from getting married was an injustice that needed to end right quick. And it was undertaken not by straight, white-shoe superlawyers, but by LGBTQ activists, passionate and at times brilliantly strategic, who put themselves on the line when most of the world found them and their claims detestable.

How any of this can be left out of a book whose subtitle is Inside the Fight for Marriage Equality, and whose marketing material breathlessly broadcasts the author’s “free rein in the legal and political war rooms where the strategy of marriage equality was plotted” is a major mystery that some intrepid reporter may one day unravel. The book relegates Edie Windsor and Roberta Kaplan, the plaintiff and litigator who actually brought gay marriage to the Supreme Court and won, to the back of the bus, bringing them up only to hand that victory to Olson and Boies, who joined the cause at the last minute.

Indeed, that cause has taken 40 years (and counting). And Becker’s book doesn’t just erase the contributions of the main characters of this struggle; it casts them as profound obstructionists, portraying one of the earliest and most important leaders of the marriage movement, Evan Wolfson, as a seething, grumbling crank who sought slow change for its own sake and who gratuitously refused to make room for new collaborators. Nothing could be further from the truth.

Jo Becker was granted extraordinary access to the Griffin-Olson team’s effort to overturn Prop 8 and to use that victory to get an immediate Supreme Court ruling allowing gay marriage in all 50 states. It was a high-risk strategy—at the time, only two states had marriage equality, making it very unlikely the Supremes would issue a decision forcing it on the remaining 48—that ultimately failed (though, to be sure, it did much good in amplifying the national conversation about gay equality). Yet Becker’s access clearly blinded her to the need to conduct basic research outside of the star-studded cadre of strategists and lawyers whose heroic tale she dutifully and uncritically tells in her book.

Becker should have done her homework, but she didn’t. So below I offer a preliminary and partial corrective, a highly abridged history of some of the indispensable developments that Jo Becker’s story unconscionably left out, events that led to what is surely now an unstoppable trajectory toward marriage equality in all 50 states. It is based on both publicly available sources and extensive interviews I have conducted over the last five years for various articles I wrote while covering the marriage-equality battle, including with most of the key players that Becker does and does not cover.

As the Honolulu lawyer Bill Woods prepared for his lawsuit, he reached out to the ACLU and Lambda Legal, the nation’s pre-eminent gay legal advocacy group, for help. The ACLU declined, in part because its local office found little enthusiasm among community members for gay marriage. So Ninia Baehr reached out to Evan Wolfson, a gay legal strategist she’d met when living in New York. Wolfson worked at Lambda, and was known as a fierce advocate of marriage equality. Even before he wrote a 1983 Harvard Law School paper, “Same-Sex Marriage and Morality: The Human Rights Vision of the Constitution,” Wolfson had viewed the freedom to marry as a proper goal of the larger gay rights movement, and he said so at every opportunity.

Wolfson quickly came to see that marriage equality was not only a noble end in itself but the perfect vehicle to help the nation truly grasp the equal dignity of gay people. In this view, he was joined by Andrew Sullivan, the prolific gay author who, in 1989, wrote a high-profile New Republic cover story making a conservative case for same-sex marriage. Though the liberal Wolfson and the conservative Sullivan had very different politics, the two became friendly co-conspirators as they crisscrossed the country arguing for a very simple idea—equality—in the face of derision, deafness, and worse.

Resistance and neglect came not only from the straight world—in its 1986 Bowers decision upholding sodomy bans, the Supreme Court had dismissed the very notion of a gay claim to equal dignity as “facetious”—but from LGBTQ people, many of whom did not view marriage as a worthy priority. But this was not because gay people didn’t feel passionately about their own equality, as Becker, through her protagonists, suggests. It was because many other concerns preoccupied them, particularly the AIDS epidemic, which decimated entire communities and put the need for relationship protections front and center. Many lesbians, although often intimately involved as caretakers of HIV-positive men, faced other pressing concerns when they came out of straight marriages and had to fight for custody of their children. Many viewed marriage as the source of their woes, not the solution. In short, many gay and lesbian advocates found marriage to be totally at odds with their lifelong fight for liberation from social arrangements they considered stifling, patriarchal, and exclusionary.

Indeed, marriage was one of the most contentious issues that gay lawyers debated when they convened at what became a gay legal “roundtable” in the 1980s—both whether and how to achieve it. “One bad loss can mean wiping out a generation of rights,” said Paula Ettelbrick, who had led Lambda Legal, referencing the Supreme Court’s 1986 Bowers decision upholding sodomy bans. The lawyers accepted a heavy sense of duty to the future. “We didn’t want to screw the whole thing up for generations to come,” said Ettelbrick, “and took very seriously our responsibilities as lawyers to be prudent and thoughtful when messing with the constitutional rights of millions.”

These pragmatic concerns, along with the alternate ideological vision many activists shared, meant the legal groups were not keen to embrace gay marriage as a top priority—though for highly principled reasons, not the ineptitude and lack of concern for equality that Becker’s book implies. To Wolfson’s regret, Lambda would not take up the Hawaii case.

So the plaintiffs turned to Dan Foley, a straight lawyer who had previously worked at the ACLU of Hawaii and who accepted Wolfson, with Lambda’s blessing, as a adviser on the case. Foley was eager to take the case, but he had little hope they would actually win. Nor did most others in the legal—or gay—communities. So nearly everyone was shocked when, on May 5, 1993, the Hawaii Supreme Court ruled that the state constitution, which prohibits gender-based discrimination, guarantees equal protection to same-sex couples wishing to get married.

Conservatives swung into action, planning legislation and constitutional amendments to ensure they would not have to recognize gay marriages performed in Hawaii. In 1996, the federal government passed the Defense of Marriage Act, which defined marriage as exclusively heterosexual and said no state had to recognize a gay marriage performed outside its borders. In 1998, before Hawaii could implement the freedom to marry, voters in the state chose to amend the constitution to bar same-sex marriage, rendering any further action by the courts moot. Hawaii had been a critical victory, though it had also led to backlash in the form of DOMA and numerous state marriage bans, another cautionary tale about the perils of litigating before the climate is ripe.

Mary Bonauto had joined Boston’s nonprofit Gay and Lesbian Advocates and Defenders in 1990, where she quickly became Evan Wolfson’s sister-in-arms. The two were among the most vocal proponents of marriage equality as a priority for the gay rights movement—cautious but determined. In the late 1990s, even as colleagues continued to balk, Bonauto geared up for battle. With Wolfson’s blessing, GLAD moved forward in Vermont, a state with several advantages over Hawaii, including a court with positive past rulings and a constitution that was hard to change. In December 1999, the Vermont Supreme Court ruled unanimously that those in gay unions were entitled to the same benefits and protections as married people. The court did not force the state to let gays and lesbians wed, but invited the legislature to create a separate institution, which became known as “civil unions.” It wasn’t marriage, but Vermont was the first state in the union to offer gays the same marital rights as straights, minus the all-important word itself.

The momentum of the Vermont decision was unstoppable. “Once Vermont was over, the pressure on us to file something in Massachusetts was intense,” said Bonauto. On April 11, 2001, days after the state’s first female governor, Republican Jane Swift, announced she would veto any gay marriage bill that hit her desk, GLAD sued the state of Massachusetts. In the meantime, the Supreme Court issued a major decision in June 2003 in the case of Lawrence v. Texas, brought by Lambda Legal. In a sweeping ruling, the court said the shrinking number of states that still had anti-sodomy laws on the books, now reduced from 24 to 13, revealed “an emerging awareness that liberty gives substantial protection to adult persons in deciding how to conduct their private lives in matters pertaining to sex.” It reversed its own ruling in Bowers from just 17 years earlier, clearly helped along by the fact that so many additional states had scrapped their own bans—further evidence that a state-by-state strategy is key to a national win at the Supreme Court.

On the heels of Lawrence, and citing the case repeatedly, Massachusetts became the first state court in America to strike down its gay marriage ban without leaving an easy recourse for reversal. Like Vermont, Massachusetts had a difficult constitution to amend, and gay groups had worked for years to build support for gay families to avoid the fate of Hawaii.

Backlash was immediate. That November, as Bush won re-election, voters in 11 states chose to amend their constitutions to ban gay marriage. Under the direction of Karl Rove and Ken Mehlman, who was then the closeted director of Bush’s re-election effort, the campaign had devised a strategy to draw conservative voters to the polls by putting anti-gay-marriage initiatives on the ballot in several key states. (Mehlman later came out and threw himself into the marriage equality battle. He is featured prominently as a hero of the cause in Becker’s account.)

The 2004 defeats devastated morale among gay rights advocates. As the 1993 Hawaii court victory had led to DOMA in 1996 (and to state marriage bans as well), the catastrophic losses in 2004 were, in part, a backlash to the pro-gay Massachusetts and Lawrence rulings, which mobilized anti-gay forces to write difficult-to-reverse bans into law. This historical reality—not some inexplicable timidity on the part of gay legal advocates—was more than enough to breed caution when considering yet more legal actions that could produce more long-term setbacks.

Yet while some movement leaders retrenched in the face of these setbacks, Wolfson and other movement actors were pushing ahead. And it’s here that Becker’s sloppy narrative runs into more trouble. Becker defines “the gay rights movement” as a monolith, a “constellation of established groups” committed to a plodding, incremental approach. It is true that the main LGBTQ legal minds took a brick-by-brick approach to winning marriage equality; they correctly reasoned that the best chance of winning it nationally was by reaching a critical mass of states and public approval before taking it to the Supreme Court. But this is hardly the “tranquilizing drug of gradualism” that Oscar-winning screenwriter Dustin Lance Black accused gay movement leaders of accepting at a 2009 speech that Griffin helped orchestrate. “The strategy of the past decade has failed,” Black declared after quoting Martin Luther King Jr. to a group of veteran civil rights activists, appearing to lay blame at their feet. “It is time for us to stop asking for crumbs and demand the real thing.”

Becker uses the episode to endorse the idea that the gay movement had failed because it was too timid, and that Black, Griffin, and Olson were poised to rescue it from obscurity. Yet if any single group in the “gay establishment” was counseling gradualism, it was the Human Rights Campaign, the world’s largest gay lobbying group, which ate up more than $40 million in gay money every year and, up to that point, had not a single major national legislative win to show for it. Becker might not know about HRC’s retrenchment from the marriage battle or the years of righteous anger directed at HRC’s failures by the rest of the LGBTQ community because she seems not to have done any real research outside her access chamber. And she wouldn’t likely have heard about it from Chad Griffin, because, on the strength of his high profile in the Prop 8 case, he became the group’s president in 2012. Again and again HRC had pulled back from the marriage-equality battle, with its leaders and spokespeople defending incrementalism, touting civil unions instead of marriage, and even reportedly pushing out one leader because she made marriage too high of a priority. Following the 2004 ballot losses, theNew York Times reported that HRC planned to “adopt a selective and incremental approach to winning rights rather than reaching for the gold ring of marriage right away.” Critics of HRC said it was “entirely characteristic” of the group “to believe that what is required is a sort of retrenchment and a return to a more moderate message.”

The point is not that incrementalism is necessarily a bad or cowardly strategy; it’s that what Becker paints as a contest between the entire gay rights “establishment” and a tiny sliver of outside-the-movement saviors was in fact a principled strategic debate within the gay rights movement across decades. And notably, HRC was on the side of gradualism that Griffin and Black lambasted and that Olson and Boies tried and failed to leapfrog. (This makes it amusing that Hilary Rosen, one of the HRC leaders who retrenched from marriage in favor of civil unions, is now doing public relations for HRC that includes e-blasting its 1.5 million members to tout Becker’s book and the heroic narrative it tells of Chad Griffin.)

It was frustration with the timidity of groups like HRC, which, like Becker, too often seemed to prize access over results, that drove a course correction in the gay rights movement, not the arrival of movement parvenus quoting Martin Luther King. Following the 2004 disappointments, the state-by-state work that advocates like Wolfson had been promoting took on greater appeal to other movement players. In 2003, Wolfson began Freedom to Marry, an umbrella organization designed to support groups across the country working for marriage equality. At the same time, dozens of small, state-based organizations began strategizing about how to secure equal rights on a state-by-state basis. As a final piece of the puzzle, and particularly after the 2004 ballot losses, major funders such as the Gill Foundation, began to direct grants in support of same-sex marriage into carefully selected states where wins seemed most viable.

As part of this work, they also began to direct money to state political races, in an effort founder Tim Gill pioneered to create pro-gay legislatures. Although nonpartisan in principle, they targeted states where throwing the legislature to Democratic control might make the difference in winning gay marriage legislatively, or defending it from a referendum once it was won. Having helped turn the Colorado state house Democratic in 2004 with hundreds of thousands of dollars of support, Tim Gill was sold on the idea that gay donors could “punish the wicked.”

This state-focused strategy worked in conjunction with gay marriage litigation and was instrumental starting in Iowa. Armed with confidence from the win in Massachusetts, and with knowledge that Iowa was being targeted for support by large gay donors, Lambda filed suit in the state in December 2005. On April 3, 2009, the ruling in Iowa created another earthquake in gay rights when it overturned the state’s gay marriage ban. On cue, opponents vowed to fight to amend the constitution. But the legislature was now controlled by Democrats friendly to the gay donors who had helped put them in power, and so the ruling survived.

As the first non-coastal state to allow gay marriage, Iowa was pivotal. A week after the Iowa decision, the Vermont legislature overrode the governor’s veto to allow same-sex marriage for the first time without a court order. Legislators were explicit about how one state built on the next. “There’s no question the fact that Massachusetts had marriage, and that Connecticut had court-ordered marriage, and then Iowa—definitely this leadership from the courts was tremendously important,” Vermont Gov. Peter Shumlin told me back when, as president of the state senate, he led the state’s legislature to pass gay marriage. And the vote in Vermont started more dominoes falling. Next came Maine, whose legislators were talking to those in Vermont. On May 6, 2009, Gov. John Baldacci signed a freedom to marry bill into law. (It was reversed by voters that November but was finally reinstated by voters in 2012, legalizing gay marriage there, as well as in Washington and Maryland, in an election that marked the first time popular ballot initiatives went for, instead of against, gay marriage.) On June 3, New Hampshire Gov. John Lynch signed a marriage-equality bill into law. In December, Washington D.C. followed suit.

And so the dominoes were falling, just as the gay legal groups had planned them to, when the Griffin-Olson effort burst onto the scene in 2009, charging ahead with its risky plan to secure a constitutional right to marriage in all 50 states. The plan failed, as the Supreme Court threw the case out for lack of standing, suggesting that the cautious view of the gay lawyers Becker derides was absolutely right: There weren’t enough justices ready to declare a constitutional right for gays to marry, as Olson had hoped. It was an entirely different case, the one brought by Edie Windsor challenging the Defense of Marriage Act, that won at the Supreme Court and has been cited most widely by federal judges knocking down gay marriage bans.

Facing intense criticism for her highly selective narrative, Becker told Politico that her book is “not meant to be a beginning-to-end-history of the movement” but is simply “about a particular group of people at an extraordinary moment in time.” This is a wholly predictable and unsatisfying response for an author whose website touts the book as “the definitive account of five remarkable years in American civil rights history” that encompasses “all aspects of this momentous struggle.” Which is it—a profile of a small group of participants or the definitive account of “all aspects” of the marriage equality battle?

By far the most egregious—and historically harmful—thing about Becker’s narrative is the total misunderstanding of what the actual strategy to win national marriage equality has been—and how it’s succeeding. The whole point of the incremental, state-by-state strategy is to secure marriage nationally through a Supreme Court win as soon as it’s achievable, while avoiding the catastrophic setbacks that history shows can occur if litigation goes forward before the climate is ripe for a win. The Olson playbook tried to leapfrog this timeline, and couldn’t, so the implication that his approach was the heroic one that saved the movement from itself is ludicrous.

In a Times Q&A, Becker writes that the gay establishment’s strategy before Olson blasted it apart “had not been to bring a federal lawsuit, but instead to fight this state by state” and that outsiders rightly changed course, “because the passage of Prop 8 had galvanized this small group of very connected people.” It was Griffin and Olson alone, she seems to think, who viewed Prop 8 as “an opportunity to take this from what had been a partisan legal debate to try to turn it into a civil rights conversation.” This is wretched history. The gay legal strategy was precisely to bring a federal lawsuit, but to do it at a time when it would succeed (after building up enough states), which the Prop 8 case did not. And it was the gay legal “establishment” that, decades ago, first understood the critical value of lawsuits in creating a national conversation to bring about gay equality.

But glibly dismissing the state-by-state strategy as an overly cautious failure allows Becker to cast her protagonists as heroes who swooped in and set a failing movement right. She suggests that some brief conversations Griffin had with the president and vice president were single-handedly responsible for their decision to support gay marriage. Never mind the prior and simultaneous work of numerous other actors whose patience and tenacity successfully played the long game—including the public and private pressure of numerous activists and bloggers, some of whom had far less access to power.

Ultimately, Becker implies that the righteous impatience—and even impetuousness—of Griffin and Olson were responsible for driving a “tectonic shift on the issue of marriage equality” and “bring[ing] marriage equality to the nation.” Note: This hasn’t happened yet—fewer than half the states have marriage equality—so this suggestion is absurd on its face. Becker simply assumes that her protagonists caused, rather than reflected, a shift already well under way—in 2011, several polls showed that, for the first time, a majority of Americans favored same-sex marriage, but the trend had been moving more or less steadily upward since the 1990s. In reality, the Griffin-Olson team joined the cause at the 10-yard line, did terrific work in moving the national conversation forward, and tried a risky strategy to win nationwide marriage equality at the Supreme Court—which failed. They added (back) exactly one state, California, furthering the successful state-by-state strategy that was already winning because of the lifelong work of Evan Wolfson, Mary Bonauto, and countless other gay advocates. That work will be responsible for national marriage equality when it finally happens.

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Amicus Brief Argues Against Cosmetic Genital Surgery on Intersex Infants Because of Long-Term Harms

Media Contact: Public Affairs, 212-854-2650 or publicaffairs@law.columbia.edu

New York, April 9, 2014—The U.S. Court of Appeals for the Fourth Circuit should protect the right of an intersex child to recover damages from doctors who authorized and performed irreversible and unnecessary cosmetic genital surgery on him during infancy, the Columbia Law School Sexuality and Gender Law Clinic argues in an amicus brief filed with the court today.

The clinic’s brief, filed on behalf of the AIS-DSD Support Group, an organization that serves intersex individuals and their families, supports the claims of M.C., an intersex child born with ambiguous genitalia. While in foster care in South Carolina—with authorization from social workers—M.C. was subjected to surgery that removed healthy genital tissue and “assigned” M.C. to be anatomically female. Now 8-years-old, M.C. has developed a male gender and clearly identifies as a boy. The case is M.C. v. James Amrheim, et al.

“The state should not have made the decision to subject M.C. to this life-altering surgery,” said clinic student Rebecca Ramaswamy ’15, who worked on the brief. “M.C. was forced to undergo this procedure purely for cosmetic purposes. Medical experts have long recognized the trauma this irreversible surgery causes and the need for surgeons to wait so that an intersex person can decide whether and to what extent to undergo surgery to change their genitals’ appearance.”

Olena Ripnick-O’Farrell ’14, who also worked on the brief along with Chance Goldberg ’15 and Asmita Singh ’14, agreed.

“International bodies have long condemned the use of surgery to alter the appearance of intersex infants,” Ripnick-O’Farrell said. “Performing cosmetic genital surgery on infants has been recognized as a human rights violation by the United Nations and the Parliamentary Assembly of the Council of Europe, among others. This surgery causes long-term harms and severely limits the medical options intersex children have after their gender identity has manifested.”

The lawsuit is the first of its kind in the United States and charges that social workers and doctors, who authorized and performed the surgery while M.C. was in South Carolina’s custody, violated M.C’s constitutional rights to reproduction, bodily integrity, privacy, and procedural due process.

“The central problem with cosmetic genital surgery on an intersex infant is that no one, including the doctors, knows how the child’s gender identity will emerge,” said Columbia Law School Professor Suzanne B. Goldberg, who directs the Sexuality and Gender Law Clinic and is the brief’s primary author. “But there are other serious problems too—these irreversible surgeries can cause infertility, genital scarring, sexual dysfunction, and depression.”

Read the brief.

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Columbia Law School’s Sexuality and Gender Clinic addresses cutting edge issues in sexuality and gender law through litigation, legislation, public policy analysis, and other forms of advocacy.

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Religious Accommodations Cost More Than Money


Posted on March 26th, 2014 by Cindy Gao

From Public Rights/Private Conscience Director Kara Loewentheil, originally published in Balkinization on March 26th, 2014. 

Yesterday the Supreme Court heard arguments in the consolidated cases of Hobby Lobby and Conestoga Wood. With the publication of the full argument transcript online, it became clear that even the experienced lawyers arguing these cases – along with the Supreme Court Justices themselves – were struggling to understand how to think about the relationship between religious accommodations and third party rights. In this context, that means the impacts that accommodations granted to religious employers would have on their female employees who would otherwise have access to contraception without cost-sharing under the Affordable Care Act’s contraceptive coverage requirement (and indirectly on their partners and children).

This came as no surprise to me. In When Free Exercise Is A Burden: Protecting “Third Parties” In Religious Accommodation Law, a paper I authored that is shortly forthcoming in the Drake Law Review, I argue that neither scholars nor courts have thus far provided a satisfying account of how to balance free exercise rights against the impact of those rights on “third parties.” In the paper I provide a thorough analysis of the existing case law on this issue and propose both a novel framework for balancing such rights as well as insight into how to better utilize the existing constitutional and statutory doctrine toward this end.

In this short post, however, I simply want to draw attention to one particularly overlooked element of the contraceptive coverage requirement that can only be understood in relation to the “third parties” (female employees) in this case. The arguments yesterday focused entirely on the practical benefit of the contraceptive coverage requirement, and analyzed everything – from the compelling interest the government advanced to the effect of already-existing exemptions – in terms of the tangible access or lack of access to contraception for the women affected. But law has more than practical impacts – it has important expressive impacts that are explicitly meant to, and do, shape social norms and priorities. In my paper I argue that the contraceptive coverage requirement has an enormously important expressive element – it signifies a social and political commitment to women’s social and economic equality, and symbolizes an acceptance of social and shared responsibility for gender equality. The importance of contraception to women’s equality has been recognized by the Supreme Court, and is featured prominently in the Government’s briefing on its compelling interest in the law. That equality is impossible to achieve without access to contraception. In that light, allowing religious accommodations without ensuring seamless and no-cost contraceptive access for the employees of objectors would be inflicting a serious expressive and dignitary harm.

Now compare that understanding to this exchange on pages 37-38 of the transcript. It comes in the midst of a dialogue between Clement, arguing for the objecting plaintiffs, and Justice Kagan during yesterday’s argument, in which Clement distinguishes between the effect of race discrimination on a prospective employee and the effect of religious exemptions on women seeking contraception:

Now, each of those has a burden on third parties, but I would respectfully suggest they’re different.  In the case of the employee who’s been subject to racial discrimination, even if they can get another job, that racial discrimination is a unique injury to them that you can’t remedy unless you tell the employer, don’t discriminate on the basis of race. . . . Here . . . all we’re really talking about is who’s going to pay for a subsidy that the government prefers. This is not about access to the contraception.  It’s about who’s going to pay for the government’s preferred subsidy.

Clement’s description of what’s at stake is as minimal as can be: it’s just who is going to pay for contraception. It’s just a matter of money, with no expressive or dignitary implications. What is fascinating about this set-up is that Clement specifically contrasts this case to a race discrimination case, in which he happily admits that an employee discriminated against on the basis of race would have a recognizable harm apart from not getting the job. What kind of harm could that be? Obviously it’s a dignitary harm, a “unique injury” that exists “even if they can get another job.” Contraception, on the other hand, is positioned as simply a consumer good in the market, with absolutely no greater purpose or significance. (Which is ironic, of course, since part of his argument is that his clients view it as a sin.)

This focus on expressive norms and purposes is not just theory-talk. It has direct implications for the way we understand the details of the doctrinal standards as well. In the second half of the argument the conservative justices hammered General Verrilli, arguing for the Government, on how the Government’s interest in the contraception coverage requirement could be compelling when there were allegedly various other exemptions in the law, including for companies with fewer than 50 employees, religious organizations, and grandfathered plans. Verrilli did his best to defend the exemptions, noting that (1) companies with fewer than 50 employees are exempted from providing all health insurance but must cover contraception if they choose to offer health insurance, (2) religious organizations are exempted if they are houses of worship but are only offered an accommodation that ensures access if they are religiously-affiliated nonprofits, and (3) that the grandfathered plans will decrease over the next several years until very few, if any, remain.

The conservative justices were particularly obsessed with the grandfathered plans, and Verrilli had a bit of a difficult time explaining why the practical impact of leaving millions of women without contraceptive access during the intervening years did not undermine the Government’s compelling interest. Embracing the expressive import of the contraception coverage requirement, however, would have cast the exemptions in an entirely different light. The expressive message of exempting small businesses from health care coverage requirements generally is far different than if contraceptive coverage was singled out from those policies. Similarly, the exception for grandfathered plans reads, expressively-speaking, as an administrative transition matter affecting all preventative health care coverage, along with other of the law’s requirements, not as a judgment about the importance of contraception. The religiously-affiliated organizations, meanwhile, are subject to an accommodation that ensures seamless coverage for women in their employ; it is true that the lack of an adequate enforcement mechanism sends a troubling expressive message about the importance of this right, but the core signal of the accommodation is to affirm the Government’s commitment to contraceptive access, not to undermine it.

In other words, understanding the expressive impact of the law reframes the question of the baseline, helping us understand the compelling interest and narrow tailoring tests in a deeper, more coherent way. Such a perspective also has implications for the First Amendment analysis when it comes to whether a law is neutral or generally applicable, but like the Court I leave those questions for another day.

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From Center for Reproductive Rights Fellow Margaux J. Hall, originally published in Slate on March 24th. 

This week, the Supreme Court hears oral argument in two cases asking whether for-profit business corporations have religious liberty rights. Hobby Lobby, a group of craft stores with 13,000 employees, and Conestoga Wood, a small Mennonite furniture maker, want to be free of the Obamacare requirement that employer-provided health insurance plans need to provide certain forms of birth control. They argue that their religious convictions prohibit them from covering such items. Religious institutions, reproductive-rights advocates, and others have sparred over the conflicting rights claims, but one important part of the conversation has been missing almost completely: Why are American employers deciding the contents of our personal health insurance plans?

It didn’t have to be this way. Yet for decades we have allowed our employers virtually unfettered freedom to make all health coverage decisions—not just those related to contraceptives—on behalf of employees and, in many instances, their family members. Why? Isn’t it time to rethink how we got to this place and whether we should do something about it?

Americans often fail to notice that a striking imbalance exists in health insurance purchasing: Although health insurance belongs to the employee, the employer gets to decide what that insurance will cover and under what terms. While contraceptives are the current lightning rod for controversy between employers and employees, tensions have emerged over the years around a whole range of health services, including treatments for autism spectrum disorder, in vitro fertilization, and bariatric surgery.

Why does health insurance actually belong to the employee? Because the employee pays for it—directly and indirectly. Though both employees and employers generally co-finance insurance premiums (in 2012, employees reportedly paid an average of 18 percent of individual plan premium costs, and 39 percent of family plan premium costs), employees functionally fund 100 percent of premium payments. In other words, employers’ health insurance premium contributions are not philanthropic investments—they are part of an employee’s net compensation package. There is a clear wage-benefit tradeoff at work in the case of employment-based health insurance. Economic research shows that employers make fewer investments in real wage increases when they increase their health insurance premium contributions. Seen this way, employers should not be permitted to spend employees’ remuneration in ways that subvert those employees’ interests.

This is the deeper issue that lurks beneath the contraceptive mandate discussions. No matter how Hobby Lobby is ultimately resolved, we have acceded to an arrangement in which employers will continue to have nearly limitless discretion to make health insurance decisions on behalf of most Americans.

In 2010, 55 percent of Americans received their health insurance through their place of employment or that of a family member. As General Motors executives used to quip, “We are in the health care provision business and make cars on the side.” In certain respects, they were right. Both General Motors and Ford have reported that they spend more on health insurance for their employees than they spend on steel. Similarly, Starbucks CEO Howard Schultz claims that Starbucks spends more on health insurance benefits than it does on coffee beans.

Why have employers emerged as the primary providers of health insurance in the U.S.? Several historic and economic reasons explain how we got here. Employment-based insurance coverage expanded in the early- to mid-1900s as unions increasingly demanded more benefits from employers. World War II–era wage controls played a contributing role as well. These wage controls exempted health benefits and thereby gave employers a convenient way to top up salaries and compete for scarce labor.

A variety of economic incentives also sustained employment-based coverage. Providing insurance at the place of employment presents an attractive way to pool risk and minimize adverse selection. A significant threat insurers confront is that individuals will only purchase health insurance when they are already sick and need to use it.  But this risk is minimized when employees purchase their insurance at the workplace through a pre-designated enrollment process.

Employees also benefit from favorable tax treatment of employment-based health insurance. Under the tax code, health benefits are excluded from employees’ taxable income (they are also deductible for employers as business expenses). This tax exclusion is sizable—it reduces the functional cost of workplace health insurance by an estimated 10 to 35 percent, depending on an employee’s marginal tax rate. It is also one of the single largest federal government expenditures. According to the Congressional Budget Office, the health insurance exclusion reduced federal revenue by $248 billion in 2013, including lost income and payroll taxes.

All of this explains why employers have become big players in the health insurance business. But it fails to explain why employers are allowed to determine the cost, quality, and accessibility of the insurance they purchase for their employees. As a legal matter, under the Employee Retirement Income Security Act (ERISA), employers make these determinations as business decisions. Enacted in 1974, ERISA was designed to protect the interests of those participating in employment benefit plans such as pensions or, in this case, health insurance plans. But while this may have been the intention of the legislation, under ERISA employers maintain discretion to pick and choose health insurance plan contents according to their own business or other preferences, with only minimal restrictions in place. The historic rationale for this was that while employers had strong incentives to offer workplace health insurance (competitor companies were doing it, and there were tax benefits), there was no mandate for them to do so. As a consequence, employers were free to offer any health insurance or no health insurance and, consequently, employees had no right to workplace health insurance.

But Obamacare changed all that. Obamacare’s employer mandate will require large employers to provide coverage or pay a penalty starting in 2015. Employees of large firms now have a reason to expect that they will receive their health insurance at the workplace. When they do so, employers will be purchasing health insurance plans on employees’ behalf and using employees’ remuneration to do so. We have yet to reconcile ERISA with the Affordable Care Act in this respect, and it is important that we do so.

One way to remedy this conflict would be by establishing policy that makes employers into legal fiduciaries—like investment and pension managers and others who safeguard our personal investments. Such fiduciaries are entrusted with duties of care and loyalty to those who benefit from their services. They must act in the sole interest of those they serve, without regard to their own financial, moral, or other preferences. Employers, acting as legal fiduciaries, could invest employees’ remuneration in insurance plans offering a diversified pool of health benefits that reflect employees’ needs. We could require employers to ask about employees’ coverage needs before selecting health insurance plans for the next enrollment year, a practice that is largely nonexistent to date. For example, through an annual confidential survey, employers could capture employees’ health needs, aggregate them, and approximate a best-fit health plan or plans to satisfy employees’ needs.

Such a reconceptualization would be groundbreaking. Under this revised model, employers would act on behalf of employees and in their exclusive interest in buying health insurance. Employees’ needs—economic, moral, or otherwise—would come first.

Obamacare means that employers will remain the dominant providers of health insurance in the U.S. for the foreseeable future. That debate is over. But now is the time to challenge the existing model for health insurance decision-making and institute safeguards to ensure that individuals and families—rather than their employers—can pick the contents of the health insurance they buy. As conversations continue to swirl around the contraceptive mandate and Obamacare more broadly, let’s not forget an important conversation that hasn’t yet taken place—clarifying once and for all the role of employers as our health agents.

Katherine Franke, Director of the Center for Gender and Sexuality Law, Creates Public Rights/Private Conscience Project, a new Think-Tank Designed to Reset the Conflict Between Sex Equality, Reproductive Rights, and Religious Liberty

Media Contact: Public Affairs, 212-854-2650 or publicaffairs@law.columbia.edu

New York, March 24, 2014—Katherine Franke, director of Columbia Law School’s Center for Gender and Sexuality Law, announced today the launch of the Public Rights/Private Conscience project, a new think-tank created to address the increased use of religion-based exemptions from compliance with federal and state laws securing equality and sexual liberty.

The scope of religious exemptions will feature prominently at the U.S. Supreme Court tomorrow, March 25, when owners of the craft store chain Hobby Lobby and furniture manufacturer Conestoga Wood argue that their religious beliefs justify an exemption from the Affordable Care Act’s requirement that employers include contraception coverage in their employee health plans. The cases are Sebelius v. Hobby Lobby Stores, Inc. and Conestoga Wood Specialties Corp. v. Sebelius.

 Professor Katherine Franke

With increasing frequency, opponents of same-sex marriage, reproductive rights, and gender equality have sought a safe harbor in religion to justify otherwise illegal employment and business practices. Arizona Governor Jan Brewer recently vetoed a bill that critics argued would allow businesses to discriminate against gays and lesbians if the discrimination were attributed to religious beliefs. Similar bills are making their way through other state legislatures.

“With greater and greater frequency, respecting equality rights is seen as optional while respecting religious liberty is mandatory,” Franke said. “The Public Rights/Private Conscience project will bring the considerable academic resources of Columbia University to bear on rethinking this intractable standoff between religious liberty and other rights.”

Read more about the project in this ProPublica Q&A with Franke.

The Public Rights/Private Conscience project will:

  • map the arguments being made in the religious exemptions context in court cases, academic scholarship, policy papers, and the media;
  • mobilize scholars, lawyers, and advocates in an effort to reframe the debate so that compliance with civil rights norms is seen as compatible with faith-based doctrines;
  • develop model language that can be included in proposed legislation that strikes the constitutionally required balance between religious liberty and other fundamental constitutional rights;
  • develop best practices to address entities or individuals that refuse service on the basis of religion;

 

The project will be directed by Kara Loewentheil, currently a postdoctoral associate-in-law and fellow in the Program for the Study of Reproductive Justice at the Information Society Project at Yale Law School. Loewentheil previously served as a Blackmun Legal Fellow at the Center for Reproductive Rights and as a clerk for the Honorable James L. Dennis on the U.S. Court of Appeals for the Fifth Circuit.

“The project is uniquely positioned to develop new theoretical frameworks for understanding the role and impact of religious exemptions on liberty and equality rights in a modern multi-cultural society,” said Loewentheil, who will be joining Columbia Law School as a research fellow in addition to her role as director of the Public Rights/Private Conscience Project. “Our goal is to promote innovative framings of these questions in policy, advocacy, scholarship, and litigation.”

The Public Rights/Private Conscience Project is funded by grants from the Ford Foundation, which aims to strengthen democratic values, reduce poverty and injustice, promote international cooperation, and advance human achievement; and the Arcus Foundation, a leading global foundation advancing pressing social justice and conservation issues.

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FRANK-Book-Pic-Medium-e1390314781757From Center for Gender and Sexuality Law Visiting Scholar Nathaniel Frank, originally published in Slate on March 13th.

When the military’s “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy ended in 2011, the ban on transgender service remained in place, contained in a different set of regulations distinct from the DADT law. For some, targeting the transgender ban was a logical next step, while others cautioned that the military wasn’t ready or that years of education and lobbying would be required before it could become a political reality. Still others, of course, remain opposed to any kind of LGBTQ service.

Today, a commission co-chaired by former U.S. Surgeon General Joycelyn Elders and including former military officers and top scholars on gender and health, has issued a report on the subject that ought to settle that question quickly. The commission, established by the Palm Center (where I am a consultant), conducted the most thorough, expert inquiry into the reasons for the current restrictions on transgender service. It set out to assess the fairly narrow question of whether the trans ban was based on sound medical science—since the regulations, which are complicated and overlapping, are primarily expressed in medical terms. What the authors found, however, was not only that “there is no compelling medical reason for the ban” but that there’s no good rationale at all—and plenty of good reasons to end it.

The ban on transgender military service is really a string of different restrictions left over from a time when anything outside a straight and narrow norm was regarded as a mystifying and dangerous difference. Defense Department medical standards disqualify applicants with “major abnormalities or defects of the genitalia such as change of sex,” as well as what the Pentagon calls “psychosexual conditions,” which include “transsexualism, exhibitionism, transvestism, voyeurism, and other paraphilias.”

The trans restrictions are embedded, for the most part, in medical regulations whose purpose is perfectly sensible: to minimize the chances that anyone who joins the military will endanger the health of the force, lose excessive duty time, or become undeployable. (They are not, interestingly, expressed in the same terms as the DADT restrictions, which presumed that openly gay troops would so disturb other service members that they would leave or that unit cohesion would suffer.) But when the commission looked into the rationale for including transgender identity and trans-related medical procedures in the list of disqualifiers to service, they made two important discoveries—that the restrictions are hugely out of date, and that there is no documented history of why they ever existed in the first place.

It’s been 20 years since the American Psychiatric Association’s DSM-IV removed “transsexualism” as a diagnosis. When it did so, in 1994, it replaced the term with “gender identity disorder.” But in the DSM-5the latest version of the psychiatric manual published last year, gender identity disorder has been replaced with “gender dysphoria.” The changes are not just semantics but carry real significance. Unlike either transsexualism or gender identity disorder, gender dysphoria is not a mental disorder, and it is not something that all transgender people suffer from. Instead, it refers toclinically significant distress that someone feels in conjunction with a deep cross-gender identification. And even those who do get the diagnosis are regarded as having a treatable condition, not an identity disorder.

Yet while the military routinely updates medical classifications to reflect the latest changes in the DSM, the trans prohibitions remain untouched, despite a complete absence of connection between being transgender and fitness for military service. That makes transgender identity one of the only statuses that automatically requires rejection or discharge, irrespective of ability to perform.

Now, about the missing rationale: The military does not bother to offer a reason for the ban, simply telling the Associated Press today, “At this time there are no plans to change the department’s policy and regulations which do not allow transgender individuals to serve in the U.S. military.” Center for Military Readiness President Elaine Donnelly, who was spectacularly wrong on the consequences of ending DADT but whom the Associated Press still quotes obligatorily, simply repeats baseless talking points from that earlier debate about sexual assaults, privacy, and “putting an extra burden” on the military.

Because there is no written history of why the military bans transgender service, the only reasons on record come from a handful of legal challenges to the ban. In one case, the Army claimed that allowing transsexuals would require it to develop burdensome facilities and specialty knowledge to deal with risks and complications from surgery or hormonal treatment. In another case, a doctor testified for the Air Force that deploying someone who had changed sex was akin to posting someone with coronary artery disease to a far-flung location without proper care. Testimony in a third case cited risks and side effects, the possibility of duty performance problems, the need for costly specialized care, and the limitations of military medical knowledge as reasons to ban trans service. “It is neither in the best interest of the individual patient to have their access to necessary health care limited during potential Air Force duties, nor is it in the best interest of the Air Force to have to provide the medical care that these individuals may require,” concluded a doctor testifying for the Air Force.

Yet the singling out of transgender identity and conduct makes it clear that little more than discomfort and stigma account for the current ban. The military allows service by all kinds of people with all kinds of health conditions that can be risker and costlier than the hurdles that transgender people typically face. What’s unique to the trans ban is that regulations deny service members, commanders, and military doctors the chance to demonstrate that a transgender person’s situation does not impose a burden on the military or any undue risk of medical complications or loss of duty time. The commission report carefully assesses the risks of surgery and hormone treatment that some transgender people undergo—and finds they are no higher than numerous medical conditions that don’t disqualify applicants. Individuals with Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, for instance, can serve so long as they can document certain performance capacities. People with mood or anxiety disorders, even those dependent on medication, can serve if they don’t need regular hospitalization and can perform their duties.

The report, in fact, is chock full of statistics on the levels of poor mental health the military will tolerate—while summarily banning trans people. According to the report, 12 percent of deployed service members suffered from a major depressive disorder in a 2012 analysis. In 2009, more than 15,000 troops were hospitalized for mental health disorders. In 2011, more than 100,000 were taking “prescribed antidepressants, narcotics, sedatives, antipsychotics and anti-anxiety drugs.” In the past decade, nearly 1 million service members were diagnosed with a mental disorder. These cases did not spur automatic discharge. In the early years of the Iraq and Afghanistan wars, 34 percent of applicants who failed psychiatric entrance tests were granted waivers to serve anyway.

The report also points out blatant inconsistencies in how the military treats medical conditions and risks depending on whether someone is transgender or not. Many gynecological conditions that may require hormone treatment face no military restrictions (unless they affect performance), while being transgender is barred regardless of medical needs or risks. About 1.4 percent of service members report using prescription anabolic steroids. Indeed, military regulations allow the use of hormones, so long as you’re not transgender, strongly suggesting that concerns about the risks and burdens of hormone treatment are simply a rationalization for transphobia. As does the fact that the military allows risky elective cosmetic surgery and grants convalescent leave for elective procedures including Botox, but regards medically necessary gender-confirming surgery for transgender people as disqualifying.

The broad medical latitude that the military grants to pretty much anyone who isn’t transgender raises serious suspicions about drawing the line at trans people who frequently do not pose any added health care risks to the force. In any event, as with DADT, the trans ban does not succeed at keeping trans people out of the military—an estimated 15,000 transgender people are currently serving—but it does function to closet people who are already living as the opposite gender and are sometimes in need of hormone treatment. Thus, while the military justifies the ban with claims that it’s not in the “best interest” of trans people to have their health care limited during deployment, it’s actually the ban itself that limits necessary health care by keeping currently serving trans members from getting the care they need.

Among the 15,000 transgender military members, there is a wide range of health care needs and psychological states, just as there is with the rest of the force. Today’s commission report provides ample reason to reconsider the current policy, which is clearly based on prejudice rather than sound medical (or any other) reasoning. Fortunately, unlike DADT, which was passed by Congress and required Congress or the courts to reverse it, the anti-trans regulations are confined to the Pentagon and can easily be removed by the Pentagon, something the commission report recommends. Given the military’s statement today that it plans no action, it’s a good thing the report reminds Washington that the Pentagon answers to the commander in chief.

The Shamelessness of Professor Mark Regnerus


Posted on March 6th, 2014 by Cindy Gao
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FRANK-Book-Pic-Medium-e1390314781757From Center for Gender and Sexuality Law Visiting Scholar Nathaniel Frank, originally published in Slate on March 4th.

The state of Michigan this week called Mark Regnerus to testify in defense of its ban on same-sex marriage. A sociologist at University of Texas at Austin, Regnerus gained notoriety after publishing a 2012 journal article arguing that children of same-sex parents faced substantial disadvantages compared to those of different-sex parents. The study catapulted him into conservative stardom, making him a credentialed mouthpiece for the claim that LGBTQ equality harms kids and can be blocked not because of anti-gay bias but out of noble concern for children and families.

Regnerus’ article made waves because it appeared to buck the trend of three decades of research showing kids with gay parents fare just as well as others. In his study and accompanying articles—including one Regnerus wrote for Slate—he touted his large, nationally representative sample size, which he said trumped the quality of research of the numerous prior studies finding that the kids are all right.

There’s one problem: Regnerus’ research doesn’t show what he says it does. Not remotely. No research ever has. Yet Regnerus, unchastened by a chorus of professional criticism correctly pointing out the obvious flaws in his work—including a formal reprimand in an audit assigned by the journal that published his piece—continues to make these groundless claims, knowing full well they are baseless. What’s worse, his role in the Michigan case is not just to oppose same-sex marriage but to argue against two-parent adoption, a position that works to keep children from having the stable, two-parent families conservatives have championed for decades. Blocking gay equality has totally trounced any alleged concern for children’s wellbeing.

Much has been written on Regnerus’ discredited study, so I’ll just summarize the single most obvious reason it’s bunk. Regnerus claims to have evaluated outcomes of children “of same-sex parents” and found results are “suboptimal” when compared to children reared by their biological parents. The study claims that, unlike other research that relies on smaller samples, “meaningful statistical inferences and interpretations can be drawn” from his data, and they show that “the optimal childrearing environment” is one where kids are raised by their biological parents.

The claim sounds reasonable enough. But since Regnerus never actually studied “children of same-sex parents,” as he claims, his conclusions are equivalent to calling a 747 the fastest plane without ever testing the Concorde. Kids raised in “planned” same-sex households—as opposed to kids from divorced families where one parent later came out—are still statistically rare, and out of his much-ballyhooed sample size of 3,000, Regnerus was unable to find a valid sample of kids who were actually reared by same-sex parents. Instead, all but two—yes, two—came from households originally led by a different-sex couple, usually the kids’ biological parents, that had suffered a family break-up, the one variable that’s most clearly known to raise risks for children. Since the kids in his data set who come from households with what he calls a “gay” or “lesbian” parent nearly all come from broken homes, his conclusions merely restated what everyone already knew: that instability raises risks for kids. But since Regnerus refers to these subjects as “children of same-sex parents,” which he didn’t actually examine, his study is nothing short of dishonest.

Regnerus’ research made waves for another reason. It had the massive weight of a religious conservative money and marketing machine behind it, and it quickly became clear that the study was only incidentally an academic product. After concerns mounted that the peer-review process might have been rushed, both the publishing journal and independent parties launched investigations. Two hundred social scientists signed a letter citing “serious concerns about the scholarly merit of this paper.” The journal that published the paper commissioned an audit assessing problems with the peer-review process. The audit found “serious flaws and distortions that were not simply ignored, but lauded” in the review process. It found blatant conflicts of interest in that “all three of the respondents to these papers have ties to the Witherspoon Institute,” the conservative religious organization that funded the study with roughly $700,000. Referring to the Regnerus study and a companion piece, the audit concluded that “neither paper should have been published.” In a separate interview with the Chronicle of Higher Education, Darren E. Sherkat, the designated reviewer, dismissed the entire study as “bullshit.”

Scholarship has to be funded by someone. But disclosures and transparency are supposed to let readers know this. Instead, Regnerus was caught lying about the role of conservative funding in his work. In the study, Regnerus writes that “the funding sources played no role at all in the design or conduct of the study, the analyses, the interpretations of the data, or in the preparation of this manuscript.” Yet in emails obtained using the Freedom of Information Act, Regnerus flatly contradicts this claim, showing Witherspoon was intimately involved with shaping the study. Regnerus wrote that he would like “more feedback” from Witherspoon’s president about the study’s “boundaries,” “optimal timelines,” and “hopes for what emerges from this project,” and he refers to a meeting hosted by the conservative Heritage Foundation, in which key supporters of Regnerus’ study discussed the need to generate research to help oppose gay marriage. According to live blog reports of today’s testimony, one of Regnerus’ emails asked what the study’s supporters “expect” from his research.

As Regnerus took the stand this week, the chair of UT Austin’s Sociology Department released a statement supporting Regnerus’ right to pursue research but strongly denouncing his views. The statement said his conclusions “do not reflect the views of the Sociology Department of The University of Texas at Austin” nor of the American Sociological Association, “which takes the position that the conclusions he draws from his study of gay parenting are fundamentally flawed on conceptual and methodological grounds and that findings from Dr. Regnerus’ work have been cited inappropriately in efforts to diminish the civil rights and legitimacy of LBGTQ partners and their families.”

You’d think that the nationwide exposure and denunciation of intellectually dishonest, fundamentally flawed, agenda-driven scholarship that’s used to repeatedly smack children and parents in LGBT families would at least quiet the perpetrator for a bit. Instead, Regnerus is out giving talks and testifying in a deepening effort to ward off gay rights. (Recently he told an audience that gay equality would infect the “American imagination” with porn, promiscuity, and anal sex.

In his Michigan testimony, he makes exactly the same claims that he’s been making all along—the ones that are totally groundless based on his or any other available research: that straight households are the best settings for kids. His testimony includes the claim that, based on his research, “to be stably rooted in your married mother and father’s household is to foster the greatest chance at lifelong flourishing.” No, it doesn’t. It just doesn’t. Let’s be clear why: As a social scientist, you cannot claim something has superior outcomes to something else if you haven’t examined the something else. And, ideally, you shouldn’t be able to have your research repeatedly and correctly knocked down and then keep repeating the same conclusions with impunity.

It’s clear that Regnerus, a conservative Catholic who has acknowledged that his research is informed by his faith, conducts his studies in an effort to block gay marriage. It’s equally clear that anti-gay bias shapes his beliefs more than concern for kids and families. But let’s be clear exactly what Regnerus and his conservative comrades are opposing in the Michigan case. The Michigan lawsuit started out as (and remains) a second-parent adoption case, in which a lesbian couple is seeking legal parental ties between both women and the children they’re raising together. Such second-parent adoptions are common ways for the partner of a legal parent to become a legal co-parent to the child, giving that child the same parental protections others enjoy by virtue of biology or marriage. When straights do it, it’s just called “step-parent adoption.” When gays do it, they often get turned away at the door, victims either of explicitly anti-gay laws or laws that privilege married people.

In the Michigan case, the state denied the plaintiffs’ adoption request, interpreting state law to allow adoption only by married couples (same-sex marriage is barred in Michigan) or single individuals. While a single gay person can adopt, a same-sex couple cannot jointly adopt, the option that’s clearly in the best interest of children. After all, the whole purpose of family law is to establish and enforce legal ties that ensure that adults exercise their responsibilities and obligations to children and each other.

Thus Regnerus’ testimony is not just a defense of Michigan’s ban on gay marriage but of its ban on joint adoption. He joins the state in actively opposing giving children two parents—because he thinks that one is of the wrong sex—all in the name of caring for children.

What makes this all the more galling is that the Michigan couple is raising three special-needs children the women are trying to adopt from the foster care system. Research shows that gays and lesbians are more likely to adopt difficult-to-place children from foster care. It’s bad enough to claim, incorrectly, that straight couples make better homes for kids than gay couples. But it’s an outrage to support policy that could let kids languish in group homes rather than live with loving, capable parents. Indeed it’s a shocking goal for conservative Christians claiming to care about vulnerable children to be pursuing.

What’s equally maddening about the focus on how gay parents do is that none of it should matter. Research has long made clear that divorce, single parenthood, adoption, and poverty disadvantage kids. Where is the passionate advocacy for barring adoption, or parenthood by divorcés, single people, or poor people? Why are gay people the only ones subject to a litmus test to secure rights that everyone else gets by birth?

The research that does is exist is, contrary to claims by Regnerus and others, substantial and decisive. More than 100 studies of kids with gay parents failed to find any substantial disadvantages. Many of these had small sample sizes. But many were larger than Regnerus’ samples, and some indeed draw on large, nationally representative samples. Yet in his testimony this week, Regnerus dismissed them all, calling them premature and saying no conclusions could be drawn from such small sample sizes. It’s true that most of the studies did not use probability samples of same-sex households, but neither did Regnerus. And it defies logic to believe that none of these numerous studies would have found problems if they existed. But Regnerus has made it clear that research is not what shapes his views. In today’s testimony he acknowledged that even if research showed more definitively that kids of gay parents fared well, he would not change his position. He’s even written that “a stronger burden of proof” should be applied to same-sex parents than to households where kids are raised by their biological parents.

In the end, the use of parenting research to advocate against gay marriage is a giant leap anyway. Even if research found problems with same-sex parenting, it wouldn’t follow that gay marriage should be banned, since gay people will have kids no matter what. Far better to encourage family stability by letting them marry, the whole point of privileging marital ties. Regnerus and company seem to believe that if same-sex marriage and parenting is banned, LGBTQ families will just go away. It’s a delusion, and one with serious consequences for the kids of those families.

Indeed, as Regnerus and his colleagues parade their pseudoscience before the court and the world, the most harrowing part is fathoming the pain that children with gay parents must feel at hearing a constant barrage of denigrating words against their families. This, above all, is nothing less than shameless.

How the Mind Rationalizes Homophobia


Posted on February 21st, 2014 by Cindy Gao
 1 comment  

FRANK-Book-Pic-Medium-e1390314781757From Center for Gender and Sexuality Law Visiting Scholar Nathaniel Frank, originally published in The Atlantic on February 21st:

For gays and their allies—who now make up a majority of Americans — the past year has been a time of heartening election results and Supreme Court victories. But for the substantial minority of Americans who continue to oppose gay marriage, a siege mentality has taken hold. Some go so far as to argue that if gays were ever the victims of prejudice, the tables have now turned.

That’s the rationale behind a wave of new state bills. Last week Charles Macheers, a Republican state representative from Kansas, had these words to say in support of a bill he described as a “shield” against discrimination: “Discrimination is horrible. It’s hurtful … It has no place in civilized society, and that’s precisely why we’re moving this bill.” That bill died in the Senate, and similar bills in Idaho, South Dakota, and Tennessee have also stalled. But on Wednesday, the Arizona Senate passed a bill allowing “any individual, association, partnership, corporation, church, religious assembly or institution or other business organization” to refuse to serve people if they feel it violates their “free exercise of religion.” The bill’s sponsor, Republican Senator Steve Yarbrough, argued during a two-hour debate on the Senate floor that “this bill is not about allowing discrimination” but “about preventing discrimination against people who are clearly living out their faith.”

Ever since it became déclassé to be anti-gay—it’s hard to put a date on it, but some time around the start of this century—those who oppose equal treatment for gay people have made similar efforts to avoid appearing homophobic. They’ve insisted that they’re driven not by a prejudiced view of gay individuals, but by a larger concern about the negative impact gay equality could have on society. In Virginia, for example, the state banned gay marriage by arguing that allowing same-sex marriage would trigger “unforeseen legal and social consequences” and inflict “serious and harmful consequences to the social order.” (That ban was struck down last week.) It’s the same claim that opponents of openly gay military service made in support of “don’t ask, don’t tell”: The policy wasn’t about prejudice, but about concerns that gay troops would harm unit cohesion and the security of the nation. (Don’t Ask Don’t Tell ended without a hiccup in 2011.)

Meanwhile, opponents of gay marriage often cite (discredited) claims that same-sex parenthood harms children. Just this week, Mitt Romney struggled to explain why children of same-sex couples in Massachusetts, the state he governed, seem to be thriving. Ultimately, Romney said it would take “generations” for his doomsday predictions to come true.

A similar line of reasoning could be found after Missouri defensive lineman Michael Sam announced he was gay. The NFL hopeful earned a standing ovation at a Missouri basketball game, yet set off a tense debate among older NFL executives and coaches. In anonymous statements to the press, they predicted a chaotic reaction by others while disavowing prejudice themselves.

It’s a reflection of great progress by LGBT groups that hardly anyone wants to be associated with the term “homophobic.” In fact, last year, the Associated Press revised its stylebook to discontinue use of that word, which connotes a visceral fear of homosexuality rather than rational disapproval of its effects on society. The AP’s Deputy Standards Editor Dave Minthorn told Politico that the word “seems inaccurate. Instead, we would use something more neutral: anti-gay, or some such.” Even gay writers like Brandon Ambrosino—who recently published an Atlantic piece titled “Being Against Gay Marriage Doesn’t Make You a Homophobe”—have argued that opposing equal rights does not belie inherent fear of homosexuality.

The term “homophobia” was coined in the 1970s by George Weinberg, a clinical psychologist who noticed his colleagues’ irrational and visceral feelings toward many gay people. “I realized this thing is deeply emotional and is based on fear,” he once told me, and went on to define “homophobia” as dread or fear around gay people. In order to be defined as homophobic, you don’t have to want to bash a gay person’s head in; it’s enough to simply have some level of emotional discomfort around homosexuality.

It’s a term that’s still too useful to abandon. Social psychologists have mounds of research on the role that emotions like fear and repugnance play in distorting our assessments of reality—that is, in creating bias. For starters, they’ve found that conscious reasoning is a much newer human capacity—evolutionarily—than gut feeling, and that the brain often deploys reasoned thought to rationalize feelings we already have. Rather than justifying a position—like, say, opposing gay marriage—based on how we actually feel, we often dream up non-existent dangers. Indeed, scientists have shown that our brains developed fight-or-flight mechanisms to help us avoid danger before our rational, deliberative machinery even perceives the threat.

Interestingly, researchers at Cornell and Yale (including Atlantic contributor Paul Bloom) have also shown that conservatives, on average, experience stronger levels of disgust than liberals do, and that an overall sensitivity to disgust correlates with anti-gay sentiment. “Our data show that disgust and politics are linked most strongly for issues of purity, such as towards homosexuality,” the authors explain.

Even more strikingly, researchers have found that people with negative views of gay people are prone to overstate the risks that gay rights pose. In one study, psychologists at Berkeley and Carnegie Mellon University measured subjects’ emotional dispositions and their risk preferences, giving them separate scores for each. When the two sets of variables were correlated, they found that “fearful people expressed pessimistic risk estimates and risk-averse choices.”

It’s no surprise that fearful people would be risk-averse. But this research showed not just that such people avoid risk but that they exaggerate it—in consistent and predictable ways. Researchers concluded that certain emotions, such as fear, activate “a predisposition to appraise future events in line with” whatever the person dreaded to begin with. In other words, fear makes people lose perspective on what the odds of danger really are. These visceral feelings often bypass consciousness, so we’re not even aware of what we’re feeling.

The psychologist Jonathan Haidt describes the amusing rationalizations his research subjects often came up with to justify moralistic positions. For instance, Haidt asked subjects if it was morally wrong to shred a flag while in your home and flush the pieces down the toilet. Those who said it was wrong couldn’t readily explain why. When pressed, one said the flag could clog the toilet.

To take a more common example, people generally disapprove of consensual sex between adult siblings but they can’t say why it’s wrong. Psychologists refer to such feelings as “moral intuitions”—unconscious judgments that stem from emotional responses or learned associations, and are often related to disgust. Haidt says people consult their feelings to help them decide what to believe. This sounds fair enough at first blush, but we’re not just talking about values here. Moral intuitions change the way people see the world around them. When your perceptions of reality are refracted through strong feelings, that’s a recipe for bias. It explains the “harms” arguments about gay rights, and why they persist even though there’s no factual information to back them up.

Technology now allows scientists to actually look inside the brain to see how bias works. During the 2004 U.S. presidential campaign, researchers put subjects in MRI scanners and fed them quotes from their preferred candidates. When subjects heard quotes that contradicted their candidate’s position, they gave often-exaggerated explanations for the contradictions. When researchers looked at which regions of the brain were activated by this rationalization process, they found that it had taken place in the zones that govern emotion, not deliberative reasoning.

Several scholars have applied this research specifically to gay rights. Using a process called Implicit Association Tests, Yale’s Paul Bloom and his colleagues documented a gap between how people say they feel about gays and how they actually feel. Researchers at the Yale Cultural Cognition Project dug deeper, exploring the role of rationalizations against same-sex parenting. Most opponents of gay parenting claimed their position was based on concern for the well-being of children raised by gay couples. But when given convincing evidence that kids with gay parents fare as well as others, very few changed their minds. Their brains sought to avoid the cognitive dissonance of holding beliefs that conflicted with their emotions.

This research doesn’t prove, indisputably, that all opponents of gay rights are actually harboring feelings of disgust toward gay people—human feelings are more complicated than that. But it strongly suggests it, especially when you consider the undeniable pattern of predicting harms that never happen as a justification for blocking equality.

In one of the few areas of life that allows for true, rational deliberation—the courtroom—this is exactly what’s being found. Recent rulings striking down gay marriage bans have found that those laws were rooted in prejudice, making them impermissible under the U.S. Constitution. The Supreme Court reached the same conclusion last June when it struck down the federal Defense of Marriage Act. The law, said the Court, was “motived by an improper animus” and its purpose was to impose “a disadvantage, a separate status, and so a stigma upon all who enter into same-sex marriages.”

For those who don’t feel disgusted by homosexuality, it’s not hard to see that often-cited fears—that it will trample religious freedom, cause distractions in the lockerroom, harm kids and families—have no empirical basis. But those who believe these things may not realize these arguments are smokescreens for irrational bias. “Prejudice,” wrote Justice Anthony Kennedy in a 2001 ruling, “rises not from malice or hostile animus alone. It may result as well from insensitivity caused by simple want of careful, rational reflection or from some instinctive mechanism to guard against people who appear to be different in some respects from ourselves.”

This profound insight echoes the research in reminding us how universal bias is. All humans suffer from it in one form or another, and recognizing this can help shed light on those who use it as a basis for anti-gay lawmaking. But understanding these rationalizations—both the predictions of harm, and the insistence that prejudice is not a factor—is different from accepting them at face value. In fact, as states like Arizona struggle to find logical explanations for anti-gay laws, it’s clearer than ever that bias, and not reason, is the motivating force behind them.

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From Center for Gender & Sexuality Law Professor Patricia Williams, originally published in The Nation on February 5th, 2014.

In late January, Kansas State Senator Mary Pilcher-Cook introduced a bill that would have criminalized the use of surrogate contracts in pregnancy and imposed a $10,000 fine and up to a year in jail for anyone participating in such a transaction. The effort was quickly abandoned amid a storm that included pro-lifers battling pro-lifers, invocations of God having hired the Virgin Mary as a surrogate, sonograms performed live in a senate committee and a host of other risible posturings.

If the bill hadn’t been body-slammed into the dust by some of the sillier statements of its chief proponent (Pilcher-Cook asserted, for example, that surrogacy creates children who are “not going to have either a biological mother, biological father or both”), the discussion might have garnered more attention. The laws regarding surrogacy are a jumble of inconsistent public policies, free-market contracts, civil interventions and criminal sanctions. However incoherent the Kansas attempt, there’s a serious question as to whether individually drafted private contracts are sufficient to settle questions of intended parenthood, or if the “best interests of the child” standards governing custody, adoption and other realms of family law should have greater sway.

Some states have long found surrogate contracts not in the public interest, and a few already criminalize them. Many laws were passed in the early days of ovum transplantation and have not been adequately reviewed in the decades since. Hence, what laws are in place have not nearly kept up with the explosive technological revolution in assisted reproduction. Even in states that purport to regulate, it is largely doctors and IVF technicians who call the shots as to what’s acceptable in the realm of surrogacy and reproductive techniques.

There is deep conceptual confusion, as well as outright conflict, about what is at stake in surrogacy. Employing a woman—often a poor or minority woman in strapped circumstances—to bear one’s child is generally extolled in the language of gift, donation, altruism, joy, hope, sharing and religiously inflected fruitfulness. But it is, in actual practice, a mostly commercial transaction involving issues of pregnancy as labor, childbirth as priced, equality of bargaining power, exploitation of bodies and fairness of terms.

The fact that surrogacy is dominantly framed by the market also vexes the question of how we figure the reproductive freedom of women who simultaneously obligate themselves as so-called “containers.” Can a woman be contractually bound—forced, in other words—to have an abortion if developmental abnormalities are detected? And what happens if she enters a contract that fails to address the risk of complications that threaten her health but not that of the fetus? Would she be forced to carry the pregnancy to term?

We’ve recently seen the emotionally wrenching legal mess that ensued when the State of Texas attempted to forcibly keep Marlise Muñoz, a woman who was indisputably brain-dead, on life support so as to sustain her 14-week-old embryo for six more months. What if Muñoz had been a surrogate? If the language of contract imagines her body to be a mere container, would there have been more or less suasion in the attempt to hook up her hired-out body, already imagined without a brain, to pumps and bellows like a fetal factory? Ultimately, the court allowed Muñoz to be taken off life support, but the battle highlights implicit issues of dignity, bodily integrity and public health in surrogacy arrangements exceeding the sphere of private contract.

That said, Senator Pilcher-Cook’s proposal was motivated by a more familiar conceptual divide: that of when the biological processes set in motion by the fertilization of a human egg will be conferred legal standing as a “person.” Pilcher-Cook is among those who believe that full personhood is sparked from the moment of conception in any and all pluripotent cells. She assigns agency and a weirdly disembodied vitality even to embryos stashed in laboratory freezers because the “value of a human being doesn’t depend on their location.” While one wishes to respect such a comprehensive notion of humanity, to reinforce such a belief with criminalizing consequence seems unduly inhumane.

Frequently passed over in the debate about surrogacy is the ever-expanding litter of parties implicated as potential parents: egg donor, sperm donor, “intended” (or purchasing) parent or parents, gestational carrier and IVF inseminator (usually a medic or technician). In the emerging science of ooplasmic transplantation, moreover—where ova are manipulated to alter mitochondrial lines—children may be born with the genetic ingredients of two mothers and one father. This is deservedly controversial among bioethicists, because it directly tinkers with the human germ line, something that violates conventions of medical and social science practice. As this implies, whatever’s the matter with Kansas is most emphatically no longer a local question. Indeed, the ethics of cloning, of eugenic racial/cultural/aesthetic superiority and of desire for self-immortalization hovers at the edge of many of these discussions.

But bottom line, to try to criminalize surrogacy is a bit like trying to criminalize contraception or abortion, in that it comes too close to criminalizing sexuality, libido, intimacy. There is a complex of contentious, theologically bewildering dilemmas we are never going to solve with bright-lined legalisms. In a moment as unprecedentedly besieged by biological and technological revolution as ours, we should resist that first gesture toward criminalizing all who do not adhere to the way things have always been. By the same token, this very expensive technology should not blind us to the multiple ways we might otherwise make family, particularly if we relinquish the conceit that all our children must “look like us.” There are, after all, well over a million homeless children in the United States; at least 650,000 passed through foster care in 2012, and at least 120,000 are waiting for adoption. That much is truly criminal.

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From Center for Gender and Sexuality Law Sabbatical Visiting Scholar Michele Goodwin, originally published in Slate on January 31st: 

In Texas, hospital officials refused for over two months to remove 33-year-old Marlise Muñoz, who was declared brain dead, from life support because of her pregnancy. A court ruling on Friday ordered John Peter Smith Hospital to take Munoz off life support in accordance with the family’s wishes, and her body was disconnected from machines on Sunday, Jan. 26.

The tragedy of Muñoz’s case is that it fits a terrible pattern of state interventions in women’s pregnancies.

In July 2013, Alicia Beltran was arrested, shackled and confined by court order to a drug treatment center for 78 days after she refused a doctor’s orders to take an opiate blocker. Beltran had confided to medical staff at a prenatal checkup that she had battled addiction to opiates in the past, but claimed she had overcome drug dependency and had recently taken a single Vicodin tablet before becoming aware of her pregnancy.

Christine Taylor was arrested in 2010 for falling down a set of stairs in her Iowa home. Hospital staff reported Taylor to police after interpreting the fall to fit within the state statute criminalizing attempted feticide.

Melissa Rowland’s reluctance to submit to an immediate cesarean section prompted medical personnel in Utah to request her arrest. She was subsequently charged with murder for the stillbirth of one of her fetuses.

In Florida, a state court authorized Samantha Burton’s involuntary confinement because she refused bedrest against her physician’s recommendation. Several days after her hospital incarceration, she suffered a miscarriage.

As these examples illustrate, nurses and doctors in these cases often act as interpreters of state law, although most lack any legal training. Increasingly, state statutes are the primary means by which legal norms affecting low-income pregnant women’s autonomy, privacy and liberty are introduced and shaped. Arrests, forced bedrest, compelled cesarean operations, and civil incarcerations imposed against pregnant women in Florida, Iowa, Indiana, Mississippi, South Carolina, Utah, Wisconsin, New Mexico, Alabama, and Texas scratch the surface of a broad attack on the reproductive liberty of pregnant women.

A range of laws, including feticide statutes enacted in 38 states, personhood legislation designating the unborn as persons for purposes of criminal prosecutions, fetal endangerment regulations, and laws that require pregnant women to be kept on life support for fetal benefit place pregnant women in opposition not only to their fetuses, but also to their doctors.

These laws fit a pattern of politically motivated legislation that misuses pregnant women’s medical crises as opportunities to legislate about reproduction. This type of legislation conflicts with pregnant women’s fundamental constitutional interests, including autonomy, liberty and privacy. State legislation forcing a pregnant woman to carry a fetus to term directly conflicts with the constitutional precedent established in Roe v. Wade and interferes with a fundamental constitutional principle that guarantees each individual liberty.

More frequently, hospitals and doctors are called upon to serve as interpreters of state law, as in Muñoz’s case, where hospital officials believed they were required to keep the pregnant woman on life support throughout the remainder of her pregnancy or until the fetus could function on its own, which would have been several months. Instead of preparing to remove Muñoz from life support as requested by her husband and her parents, hospital officials refused, citing a Texas law that prohibits healthcare providers from ending life support to pregnant patients.

Texas is one of more than two dozen states prohibiting removing life support from a pregnant woman. The Texas law is among the strictest in the nation. Other states, including Texas, Kentucky, South Carolina, Utah, and Wisconsin, “automatically invalidate a woman’s advance directive if she is pregnant.” A study published by the Center for Women Policy Studies explains that these laws “are the most restrictive of pregnancy exclusion” legislation, because regardless of fetal viability or the length of pregnancy, the laws require that a pregnant woman must “remain on life sustaining treatment until she gives birth.”

Muñoz’s case is not unfamiliar to legal scholars. Years before, Angela Carder, a pregnant cancer patient in Washington, DC was refused chemotherapy due to her pregnancy. Doctors in that case sought a court order to deny the urgently needed medical treatment, because Carder was pregnant and physicians feared the death of the fetus. In that case, a federal judge permitted doctors to perform a forced cesarean delivery. The fetus died two hours later, and Carder died two days later.

District Court Judge R. H. Wallace Jr.’s order to pronounce Marlise Muñoz dead is a symbolic victory for her family. As long as fetal protection laws exist, medical personnel will inevitably make mistakes causing pregnant women and their families significant pain and anxiety.

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