TIME: Almanac 1993/TIME Almanac 1993.iso/time/101491/1014108.000

Text File | 1992-08-28 | 5.7 KB | 119 lines

                                                                                NATION, Page 30

CIVIL RIGHTS

Test Case for a Gay Cause


Pete Wilson vetoes an antibias bill, dashing hopes for new laws
banning discrimination based on sexual orientation

By NANCY GIBBS -- Reported by D. Blake Hallanan/San Francisco,
with other bureaus


    Among the items hurled at California Governor Pete Wilson
last week were oranges (he caught one and threw it back), eggs
and ugly epithets. "Liar! Coward! Shame! Shame!" cried the
protesters at Stanford, where Wilson was delivering a speech
marking the university's centennial. Surrounded by police in
riot gear, he plunged through a 10-minute address, unheard by
much of the audience of 4,000 over the catcalls of 300
protesters from gay-rights groups like Queer Nation and ACT UP.
Over the clamor, Wilson offered the observation that "this is
neither the time nor the place for fascist tactics."

    It was a week of rage in California, as gay activists
smashed windows in government buildings, torched the California
flag and burned Wilson in effigy. The Governor had betrayed
them, the protesters declared, when he announced that he was
vetoing AB101, a bill designed to protect homosexuals from job
discrimination. Wil son, who won his office with the help of gay
support, had indicated in April that he would sign the
legislation. But last week, after receiving 100,000 letters from
impassioned conservatives urging him to scrap the bill, he
changed his mind.

    The legislation would have allowed gays who believe they
have been discriminated against to seek penalties against
employers through the state fair employment and housing
department. The law currently applies to victims of bias on the
grounds of race, gender, age or physical disability; AB101 would
simply have added "sexual orientation" to the list. Businesses
that employ fewer than five people would be exempt, as would
religious organizations. But the legislation would have covered
more than 80% of the state's employees.

    Wilson's veto sent a chill through civil rights activists
across the country. Four other states -- Hawaii, Wisconsin,
Massachusetts and Connecticut -- have passed broad
antidiscrimination laws, and a national bill is pending before
Congress. Gays had viewed California, as the country's most
populous state and a leader in civil rights legislation, as a
critical test case.

    Though polls last week found that 62% of Californians
wanted Wilson to sign the bill, he justified his decision on the
grounds that it would unleash lawsuits, stifle job creation and
unduly burden businesses. Gays were already protected from
discrimination, he said, under the privacy clause of the state
constitution. Each year the department of fair employment and
housing handles more than 10,000 complaints, roughly one-quarter
of which end up in court.

    But there was something disingenuous in Wilson's
objections. Proponents of AB101 point out that similar laws have
not led to endless litigation in other states. In Wisconsin
during the past 10 years, just over 500 cases have been filed,
or less than 1% of all discrimination complaints in that state.
A California senate judiciary-committee analysis found that few
of the state's 10,000 complaints actually resulted in expensive
hearings or litigation. During each of the past three years,
records show, the fair employment and housing commission has
decided fewer than 20 cases, and half of them came down in the
employer's favor.

    The real reason for the veto had more to do with Wilson's
political fortunes. The Governor has known for some time that
he was in trouble with the G.O.P. right wing, which has been
twitching over his decision last summer to raise taxes $7
billion. Wilson's support of abortion rights opens him to
charges of being against traditional family values. Also
threatened is Senator John Seymour, whom Wilson appointed to
take his seat when he was elected Governor last year. Seymour
faces a tough challenge for re-election from conservative
Republican William Dannemeyer, a strong opponent of gay rights.
By vetoing the bill, Wilson may have hoped to steal some of
Dannemeyer's thunder and appease the right wing in one stroke.

    Some political analysts think Wilson may have his sights
fixed on more distant horizons. If he were thinking, for
instance, of running for President in 1996, he would need to
carry conservative voters in the California primary. "You can't
sign this bill and run for President in North Carolina and
Mississippi in 1996 without some major problems," observed the
Rev. Louis Sheldon, chairman of the Traditional Values
Coalition, a group of 6,500 churches.

    But Sheldon and other conservatives were not won over. In
his veto message, Wilson said he hated to give comfort to "the
tiny minority of mean-spirited, gay-bashing bigots," a
characterization which served only to inflame the right wing.
Some conservative leaders viewed Wilson's flip-flop on the bill
as a patent effort to placate their troops, and promised that
they would go ahead and support Dannemeyer anyway as the true
conservative. Some leaders of the gay-rights movement,
meanwhile, promised a fire storm. Though moderate gay groups
deplored such tactics, some radical activists threatened to
"out" members of Wilson's staff. "We will haunt the Governor as
long as it takes to get this bill passed," says Queer Nation
member John Woods, "or until he's no longer Governor." So, in
the end, Wilson loses on both counts: one side rejects his
principles; the other questions his politics; and he winds up
as the man in the middle, a lonely place in the politics of
extremism.