Marriage Guidance

The debate on same sex marriage has so far been dominated by its opponents.

More than half a million people have now signed the Coalition For Marriage's petition against the government's proposal to permit same-sex marriage.  For a campaign that didn't even exist a few months ago, it's an extraordinary achievement.  A rival petition supporting the equalisation of the marriage laws has attracted barely a tenth the number of signatures.

There have been signs in recent days that the campaign to prevent what had seemed a fait accompli is beginning to scent victory, at least in the battle for public opinion. The government remains committed to the reform, but in the wake of the coalition parties' poor showing in the local elections there has been a notable lack of enthusiasm for it, especially on the Tory benches.  Nadine Dorries spoke for more of her colleagues than usual the other day when she described same sex marriage the other day as a policy "pursued by the metro elite gay activists" that needs to be "put into the same bin" as Lords reform. "Gay marriage" has become a symbol of everything that the Conservative right hates about the coalition and about David Cameron's modernising agenda.  

There is, in fact, a persuasive logic to Cameron's conservative case for same-sex marriage.  With its history and moral weight, the word "marriage" has a magic that the newly invented status of civil partnership lacks.  To invite gay couples to participate in the institution is not only to offer them full acceptance (the "progressive" part).  It is also to ask them to embrace the traditional, and conservative, moral obligations of marriage.  At the same time, opening marriage to same-sex couples might give it new appeal to younger, liberal-minded heterosexuals currently suspicious of its historic baggage.

But the case has not been well made.  It doesn't help that the proposals themselves are illogical and badly thought-through, and would raise more anomalies than they solve.  By closing down options, for example refusing to countenance allowing heterosexual couples to enter civil partnerships, the March consultation document missed an opportunity for a genuine national debate on the nature of marriage and the state's role in registering it.  Declaring the policy already decided also generated a predictable backlash.  The impression of arrogance was not helped by Lynne Featherstone, the Lib Dem minister responsible, offering a "cast-iron guarantee" that the change would be introduced before the next election (a promise she repeated yesterday).  

Instead, opponents of changing the law have dominated the discussion.  Their greatest success has been in portraying the government's proposals as involving a fundamental redefinition of marriage.  Concentrating on the word rather than the substance presents the change as more radical than it actually is (from a practical point of view, the introduction of civil partnerships represented a much greater advance in the state's acceptance of same-sex relationships).  It also leads to some fairly reactionary arguments.  The Coalition For Marriage  states, for example, that marriage "reflects the complementary natures of men and women" -- a position not far removed from a demand that men go out to work while women stay at home looking after the kids.  The same suggestion was made in a letter from the Roman Catholic archbishops that was controversially circulated to Catholic schools.

Ironically, such an argument is itself an attempt to redefine marriage, or at least to return to an older definition.  Even understood as a relationship between one man and one woman, marriage has changed profoundly during the centuries, from being an institution based on the exchange of property and securing the legitimacy of children to one based on the mutual relationship of the spouses.  US Vice President Joe Biden encapsulated it well when he came out in support of same sex marriage at the weekend.   It was, he said, "a simple proposition -- who do you love?  And will you be loyal to the person you love? That's what all marriages at root are about."  This hasn't always been the case.

Rooting marriage in the difference between the sexes rather than their equality, as the Campaign for Marriage does, looks like an attempt to set the clock back.  This is why the issue of same sex marriage should not merely be of concern to gay people.   Opening marriage to homosexual couples isn't just a recognition that they are now a full part of society.  It's also a logical expression of the modern understanding of marriage as a partnership between equals.  

 

Same-sex statues on top of a wedding cake. Photograph: Getty Images
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Why is it called Storm Doris? The psychological impact of naming a storm

“Homes being destroyed and lives being lost shouldn’t be named after any person.”

“Oh, piss off Doris,” cried the nation in unison this morning. No, it wasn't that everyone's local cantankerous old lady had thwacked our ankles with her stick. This is a different, more aggressive Doris. Less Werther’s, more extreme weathers. Less bridge club, more bridge collapse.

This is Storm Doris.

A storm that has brought snow, rain, and furious winds up to 94mph to parts of the UK. There are severe weather warnings of wind, snow and ice across the entire country.

But the real question here is: why is it called that? And what impact does the new Met Office policy of naming storms have on us?

Why do we name storms?

Storm Doris is the latest protagonist in the Met Office’s decision to name storms, a pilot scheme introduced in winter 2015/16 now in its second year.

The scheme was introduced to draw attention to severe weather conditions in Britain, and raise awareness of how to prepare for them.

How do we name storms?

The Name our Storms initiative invites the public to suggest names for storms. You can do this by tweeting the @metoffice using the #nameourstorms hashtag and your suggestion, through its Facebook page, or by emailing them.

These names are collated along with suggestions from Met Éireann and compiled into a list. These are whittled down into 21 names, according to which were most suggested – in alphabetical order and alternating between male and female names. This is done according to the US National Hurricane Naming convention, which excludes the letters Q, U, X, Y and Z because there are thought to be too few common names beginning with these letters.

They have to be human names, which is why suggestions in this list revealed by Wired – including Apocalypse, Gnasher, Megatron, In A Teacup (or Ena Tee Cup) – were rejected. The Met Office received 10,000 submissions for the 2016/17 season. According to a spokesperson, a lot of people submit their own names.

Only storms that could have a “medium” or “high” wind impact in the UK and Ireland are named. If there are more than 21 storms in a year, then the naming system starts from Alpha and goes through the Greek alphabet.

The names for this year are: Angus (19-20 Nov ’16), Barbara (23-24 Dec 2016), Conor (25-26 Dec 2016), Doris (now), Ewan, Fleur, Gabriel, Holly, Ivor, Jacqui, Kamil, Louise, Malcolm, Natalie, Oisín, Penelope, Robert, Susan, Thomas, Valerie and Wilbert.

Why does this violent storm have the name of an elderly lady?

Doris is an incongruous name for this storm, so why was it chosen? A Met Office spokesperson says they were just at that stage in their list of names, and there’s no link between the nature of the storm and its name.

But do people send cosy names for violent weather conditions on purpose? “There’s all sorts in there,” a spokesperson tells me. “People don’t try and use cosy names as such.”

What psychological impact does naming storms have on us?

We know that giving names to objects and animals immediately gives us a human connection with them. That’s why we name things we feel close to: a pet owner names their cat, a sailor names their boat, a bore names their car. We even name our virtual assistants –from Microsoft’s Clippy to Amazon’s Alexa.

This gives us a connection beyond practicality with the thing we’ve named.

Remember the response of Walter Palmer, the guy who killed Cecil the Lion? “If I had known this lion had a name and was important to the country or a study, obviously I wouldn’t have taken it,” he said. “Nobody in our hunting party knew before or after the name of this lion.”

So how does giving a storm a name change our attitude towards it?

Evidence suggests that we take it more seriously – or at least pay closer attention. A YouGov survey following the first seven named storms in the Met Office’s scheme shows that 55 per cent of the people polled took measures to prepare for wild weather after hearing that the oncoming storm had been named.

“There was an immediate acceptance of the storm names through all media,” said Gerald Fleming, Head of Forecasting at Met Éireann, the Irish metereological service. “The severe weather messages were more clearly communicated.”

But personalising a storm can backfire. A controversial US study in 2014 by PNAC (Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences) claimed that hurricanes with female names lead to higher death tolls – the more “feminine” the name, like Belle or Cindy, the higher the death toll. This is not because female names are attached to more severe storms; it is reportedly because people take fewer steps to prepare for storms with names they perceive to be unintimidating or weak.

“In judging the intensity of a storm, people appear to be applying their beliefs about how men and women behave,” Sharon Shavitt, a co-author of the study, told the FT at the time. “This makes a female-named hurricane . . . seem gentler and less violent.”

Names have social connotations, and affect our subconscious. Naming a storm can raise awareness of it, but it can also affect our behaviour towards it.

What’s it like sharing a name with a deadly storm?

We should also spare a thought for the impact sharing a name with a notorious weather event can have on a person. Katrina Nicholson, a nurse who lives in Glasgow, says it was “horrible” when the 2005 hurricane – one of the fifth deadliest ever in the US – was given her name.

“It was horrible having something so destructive associated with my name. Homes being destroyed and lives being lost shouldn’t be named after any person,” she tells me over email. “I actually remember at the time meeting an American tourist on a boat trip in Skye and when he heard my name he immediately linked it to the storm – although he quickly felt guilty and then said it was a lovely name! I think to this day there will be many Americans who hate my name because of it.”

Anoosh Chakelian is senior writer at the New Statesman.