Last week, the California Supreme Court released their decision on Strauss v. Horton, the first (and most serious) lawsuit levied after the passing of Proposition 8 last fall. As expected, the court ruled that the Proposition was valid, but so were the 18,000 or so marriage licenses issued to gay couples before November’s election. The day after the court decision, I saw a number of people retweet this message:
This is a rather understandable reaction, but I actually think that the anger here is a little misplaced, for two reasons.
First, the issue before the court was not whether or not gay couples should be able to get married. Rather, the court’s ruling was restricted to whether or not the California ballot system had the power to alter the state’s constitution in the manner that Proposition 8 did. And, the court decided that it did. The reasons why are a little more complicated (it has to do with the difference between a constitutional revision, which a ballot proposition is not allowed to alter, and a constitutional amendment, which can be added by the voters), but it’s important to note that this decision was based on the California proposition system and not on the right of gays to get married in the state. From the opinion:
Taking into consideration the actual limited effect of Proposition 8 upon the preexisting state constitutional right of privacy and due process and upon the guarantee of equal protection of the laws, and after comparing this initiative measure to the many other constitutional changes that have been reviewed and evaluated in numerous prior decisions of this court, we conclude Proposition 8 constitutes a constitutional amendment rather than a constitutional revision. As a quantitative matter, petitioners concede that Proposition 8 — which adds but a single, simple section to the Constitution — does not constitute a revision. As a qualitative matter, the act of limiting access to the designation of marriage to opposite-sex couples does not have a substantial or, indeed, even a minimal effect on the governmental plan or framework of California that existed prior to the amendment.
Ironically, the court probably would have found Proposition 8 to be unconsitutional had California not already implemented a comprehensive civil union system. In California, there is no difference between a civil union and a marriage save name; that’s why the court was forced to decide that the proposition was merely revising what those rights could be called, and not actually removing those rights.
That’s the decision, and from what I can tell it holds water, so to speak. It should be pointed out, too, that the Chief Justice, Ronald M. George, wrote the opinion on both Strauss v. Horton and 2004’s landmark case In re Marriage Cases, which ruled that the California Constitution does indeed guarantee equal rights for same-sex couples. “Finally,” he wrote,
“…retaining the designation of marriage exclusively for opposite sex couples and providing only a separate and distinct designation for same-sex couples may well have the effect of perpetuating a more general premise – now emphatically rejected by this state – that gay individuals and same-sex couples are in some respects “second-class citizens” who may, under the law, be treated differently from, and less favorably than, heterosexual individuals or opposite-sex couples. Under these circumstances, we cannot find that retention of the traditional definition of marriage constitutes a compelling state interest.”
Considering that it’s unlikely he’s had too dramatic of a change of heart in the last five years, and that one of the most liberal state courts in the nation ruled on this 6-1, I think it’s reasonable to assume that Proposition 8 is – regrettably, abominably, but, it would appear, legally – sound.
(I should point out here that I’m hardly a legal scholar. But otherpeople are, and many of their informed opinions match my rather-less informed one.)
But even putting aside the question of whether or not the court made the right decision, I think that it is tremendously important that this issue not be resolved by the California Supreme Court in particular. There are basically two ways now that Prop. 8 can be overturned: by the federal Supreme Court, or at the California ballot box. Either is preferable to having the decision overturned now. Had the court ruled last week that Prop. 8 was invalid, the backlash from the 53% of Californians who voted for Prop. 8 – many of whom are not hardcore bigots, and who are susceptible to outreach and persuasion – would have been intense and irrevocable. The right would get to harrumph about liberal activist justices for a bit and then the two sides would settle back into their trenches more firmly than ever before.
It’s certain, though, that a proposition will be on the ballot next election overturning Prop. 8, and strange as it sounds (and California politics are very, very strange) I think it has a very good chance to win. A large percentage of the public (including yours truly) is somewhat ashamed to live in a state with that sort of language on its Constitution. The campaign will be better run and better funded than before. And the effect of nine months of living shoulder-to-shoulder with 18,000 married gay couples might just convince those on the fence that California is not on the brink of sliding into the depths of Hades.
It might be even better, though, for Prop. 8 to go before the Supreme Court, where the decision could have wide-ranging effects not only on California but on all those states who have passed similar discriminatory measures. This is somewhat less likely but not impossible.
To wrap all this up: there are plenty of people to blame for Prop. 8, and the anger is justified. I just don’t think that the California Supreme Court is reasonable outlet for either.
I’ve now seen it thrice, and I think that only on the last was I able to really examine it critically. The first time I was too swept up in geek fervor to have many coherent thoughts at all; the second time, in IMAX, was such sheer spectacle that I forgot to think about anything else. But the third time I was able to sit back and really think about the film, and while I’ve cooled toward aspects of it somewhat, I still think that it is a tremendously successful reboot, and it hews true to what made Star Trek so appealing in the first place.
The casting is impecccable to a fault. Chris Pine appropriates the swagger and ego of Shatner’s Kirk but none of the odd speech patterns or hammy acting. Zachary Quinto’s Spock is a younger and altogether more human thing, with more than a hint of contempt beneath his arched eyebrows. Zoe Saldaña’s Uhura has more to do in this film than Uhura did in the first six; Karl Urban manages to sound shockingly like a young DeForest Kelley; and Simon Pegg turns in an as-usual excellent performance as Montgomery Scott. Acting in this film must have been no easy thing, considering that it required both a respect for the original cast and a new sensibility, but the (mostly very young) cast pulls it off with aplomb. (I would be remiss, too, if I didn’t mention Bruce Greenwood’s gruff turn as Christopher Pike, which manages to take an exceedingly minor character from the Trek canon and turn him into something altogether different and more important.)
The tipping point for Starkey was the weekend of Nov. 22-23, with the Big Game in Berkeley on Saturday and the 49ers in Dallas on Sunday. Starkey said he could not get a flight to Dallas from San Francisco until 12:45 a.m. PST Sunday, with an arrival time around 7 a.m. CST.
He could not get a hotel room at that time of day and got no sleep prior to the noon kickoff at Texas Stadium. Starkey developed laryngitis returning from Dallas and ended up missing the next two 49ers games, at Buffalo and against the Jets at Candlestick.
I’m impressed that Starkey has been able to juggle calling both Cal games and 49er games for so long (since 1975 for Cal, and 1989 for San Francisco). Still, I think this is a loss for Bay Area sports on a whole, and I know that I’ll miss listening to Starkey call Niners games. Football is not a sport suited to radio; it’s faster and more visual than, say, baseball. But Starkey somehow managed to perfectly sketch out the action on the field, in only a few words and always with palpable excitement. I followed football much closer when I was in high school, and on those agonizing fall Sundays when I wasn’t able to watch the game, Starkey was there. He was far and away the best football announcer I’ve ever heard, and the 49ers will miss him.
There are, I realize, liberals who are complete assholes. There are liberals who are horrible, terrible people, who are cruel without cause or motive. But as far as I can tell, few of these liberals consistently go on the radio and show people just how despicable they are. Consider this exchange (hat tip: the TAPPED blog) between conservative talk radio host Mark Levin and a caller:
MARK LEVIN: Answer me this, are you a married woman? Yes or no?
CALLER: Yes.
MARK LEVIN: Well I don’t know why your husband doesn’t put a gun to his temple. Get the hell out of here.
Mark Levin is, admittedly, not quite the cultural icon that, say, Rush Limbaugh is. But he still has considerable heft: his radio show is syndicated on ABC Radio and consistently wins its time slots, and his newest book (Liberty And Tyranny: A Conservative Manifesto) has been at #1 on the New York Times bestseller list since early-April. And this isn’t even as low as some of the things Rush has said on his show – like, “Feminism was established so as to allow unattractive women easier access to the mainstream of society”, say, or “They oughtta change Black History Month to Black Progress Month and start measuring it”. Call me crazy, but I’m hard pressed to think of a single liberal talk show host who’s come anywhere close to saying anything this amoral. Sure, Matthews is a blowhard, Olbermann’s a bigger blowhard, and Maddow – well, there’s nothing wrong with Maddow. But still – can you imagine any of them saying this? Can you imagine that it would make their audiences happy?
I’m thinking very seriously about going to graduate school for journalism. I’m not sure, then, whether to be depressed or cheered by this paragraph from a story in The New Republic about possible Supreme Court nominee Sonia Sotamayor. Depressed, because it is so ridiculous that this was allowed to be run in an ostensibly-respectable magazine; or cheered, because I was able to recognize how egregious an offense against journalism itself this really is:
I haven’t read enough of Sotomayor’s opinions to have a confident sense of them, nor have I talked to enough of Sotomayor’s detractors and supporters, to get a fully balanced picture of her strengths. It’s possible that the former clerks and former prosecutors I talked to have an incomplete picture of her abilities.
The piece, for the record, is rife with completely anonymous quotes – it literally contains nothing else – and the thesis is that Sotamayor doesn’t have the temperment or the intelligence to sit on the court. Which is perfectly possible. But what would, I think, give reasonable insight into her intelligence is to read the legal opinions upon which her career is based. And a collection of loose anonymous quotes and borderline libel, with no research or homework behind it, is not, I think, a magazine article. It’s a hatchet job.
I went to see an NYU production of You’re A Good Man, Charlie Brown last night, and I want to say first that I very much enjoyed the production itself – in particular, the acting. But watching the play also reminded me of what has always made me uncomfortable about Peanuts, namely that the strip is based entirely upon laughing at the sadness and failures of small children. Consider this monologue of Charlie Brown’s, from the musical:
I think lunchtime is about the worst time of the day for me. Always having to sit here alone. Of course, sometimes mornings aren’t so pleasant, either – waking up and wondering if anyone would really miss me if I never got out of bed. Then there’s the night, too – lying there and thinking about all the stupid things I’ve done during the day. And all those hours in between – when I do all those stupid things. Well, lunchtime is among the worst times of the day for me.
Cue audience giggle.
Granted, You’re A Good Man wasn’t written by Charles Schultz, and I can’t remember anything from the comic strip that was quite that bleak. But it’s not out of character for Charlie Brown, and indeed most of Schultz’s characters are defined by these sorts of negative traits. Charlie Brown is a clinically-depressed failure; Lucy is a conniving, backstabbing bitch; Linus is an addict; Sally is a dumb blonde. I don’t have a particular problem with having dark undertones in comic strips – it’s not like Calvin and Hobbes didn’t tackle stuff like death and depression from time to time – but I do think that our seeming unwillingness to acknowledge that there’s anything dark about Peanuts at all is a little strange.
…there’s no such thing as “free bread.” Rather, there’s such a thing as “slightly more expensive entrees.” And that’s the thing people are getting when they think they’re getting free bread.
[snip]
Ariely conducted a similar experiment himself. He set up shop in a mall and offered shoppers one of two deals. Either they could have a free $10 certificate (which is to say, a free $10), or they could pay $7 for a $20 certificate (which is to say, a free $13). Literally everyone chose the first. But when Ariely made the $10 certificate cost a single dollar, two-thirds of the folks he stopped preferred to pay for the $20 certificate.
What does this have to do with bread? In short, people consume a lot more of something when they think it’s free. Even attaching a marginal cost to the bread bowl — a quarter, say, or a dollar — would probably lead consumption to plummet. That would make everything else on the menu cheaper and, incidentally, make dining out a bit healthier as people wouldn’t overconsume bread. It’s not just that the bread eaters are being subsidized by the bread refuseniks right now. It’s that everyone is wired to eat more of the bread because they think they’re getting something free.
I think Klein fundamentally misinterprets the true implications of the experiment. From a strictly economic point of view, the mallgoers’ actions were nonsensical. But from an emotional point of view, they make perfect sense: people very much like getting things for free, and they very much dislike having to give things up. I recently read about an experiment (and I can’t cite a source here because I’ve forgotten; you’ll just have to take my word) in which random people on the street were approached and asked to bet on a coin flip. If it came up heads, they had to give the experimenter a dollar. But if it came up tails, the experimenter would give them x amount of dollars, and the experimenters were trying to determine where that x value fell for the majority of people.
What they found is that almost no one would take the bet unless it was a two-to-one ration – that is, the people had to be offered two dollars to risk giving up their one. But most people went even higher than that, and many wouldn’t even take the bet for five or ten dollars. Some people simply wouldn’t take the bet at all. People really don’t like having to give things up.
So I would argue that the people who chose the ten-dollar gift certificate – even though they were losing money – were not making the wrong choice; they were making the choice that would ultimately make them happier. If I were to pay seven dollars for the twenty-dollar gift certificate, I guarentee you that I would walk away thinking, “Well, did I really need to spend that seven dollars? I wasn’t even planning on buying anything today anyway. And I have been trying to save money. Maybe I should have saved that money for a burrito.” But if I were to choose the ten-dollar gift certificate, I would walk away thinking, “Free money!” And I think that’s worth more than three dollars to me.
To bring this back around to bread – I think that if restaurants stopped offering free bread (or, heaven forbid, free chips and salsa) there is a very real chance that consumers would talk themselves out of paying for it, and their meals would be immeasurably poorer for it. It is not simply that the bread is delicous; it is that it is delicious and free, and the knowledge that the cost is folded in elsewhere seems very abstract when you’re mashing down on a crusty baguette. Sometimes it’s okay to get duped if you’re happier for it.
