DOMA and Proposition 8: The perils and benefits of an activist Supreme Court

The Supreme Court rulings on the Defence of Marriage Act and Proposition 8 stand in stark contrast to the day before, and show a split activist court.

The Supreme Court giveth, the Supreme Court taketh away. Just a day after a landmark ruling that rolled the civil rights movement back several decades on race, two more rulings were handed down by that most august of bodies today that roll it several decades forward on gender. One, by denying the right to appeal of a group of supporters of California's Proposition 8, effectively legalised gay marriage in the US's most populous state.

The other, a much more direct – and therefore important – ruling, found a central clause of the hated Defence Of Marriage Act (DOMA), which denied gay couples equal protection under the law, unconstitutional. So while the day before was a bad day for black Americans, yesterday was a great day for gay Americans.

The one anchovy in the trifle was Justice Antonin Scalia, whose enraged dissenting opinion laid into Justice Kennedy's striking-down of DOMA, and who hinted that, while the Court had chosen not to directly address the national constitutionality of a ban on gay marriage in any state – dismissing the Proposition 8 case and sending it back to the 9th Circuit court of California's decision instead – it is inevitable now that one day the Court will take a similar case on merit at some point in the future. He went on grumpily to say that Kennedy was acting with “real cheek” by saying that the constitutionality of gay marriage wasn't up in front of the court yet.

This kind of judicial activism infuriated Scalia. “We have no power to decide this case,” he raged. “And even if we did, we have no power under the Constitution to invalidate this democratically adopted legislation. The Court’s errors on both points spring forth from the same diseased root: an exalted conception of the role of this institution in America.” This was pretty ironic, actually; just the previous day, Scalia had no such qualms about judicial activism when the court was addressing a conservative issue: he voted enthusiastically to gut the Voting Rights Act – which had been reaffirmed in Congress in 2006 by a huge majority.

It would be wrong to say that hypocrisy about juducial activism is unique to the conservatives on the bench. Justice Ginsberg's anguished dissenting opinion on striking down the Voting Rights Act is in contrast to her full-throated support of Justice Kennedy's majority opinion on DOMA; though she, along with Scalia, voted to send Proposition 8 back to California rather than address its merits there and then it is probably that had they debated the issue she and Scalia would be on different sides. Justice Kennedy is, as usual, the tipping-point between conservatives and liberals on the court – he joined Justice Roberts in voting to strike down the VRA. He is therefore probably the most important Justice.

But Scalia's prediction is probably also correct. The majority opinion by Kennedy on DOMA contains language that will allow for plenty of challenges to the constitutionality of marriage inequality down the line. He said, for example, that DOMA constituted nothing less than a “deprivation of the equal liberty of persons that is protected by the Fifth Amendment, and also that it “humiliates tens of thousands of children now being raised by same-sex couples,” and bases an argument around giving “dignity” to same-sex families. All of these give immediate legal precedent for challenges to state gay-marriage bans. So while this wasn't a day of final victory on marriage equality, it was decisive nonetheless. Sometimes an activist court isn't so bad.

San Francisco's City Hall flies the rainbow flag. Photograph: Getty Images

Nicky Woolf is a writer for the Guardian based in the US. He tweets @NickyWoolf.

Getty
Show Hide image

The joy of only winning once: why England should be proud of 1966

We feel the glory of that triumphant moment, 50 years ago, all the more because of all the other occasions when we have failed to win.

There’s a phrase in football that I really hate. It used to be “Thirty years of hurt”. Each time the England team crashes out of a major tournament it gets regurgitated with extra years added. Rather predictably, when England lost to Iceland in Euro 2016, it became “Fifty years of hurt”. We’ve never won the European Championship and in 17 attempts to win the World Cup we have only won once. I’m going to tell you why that’s a record to cherish.

I was seven in 1966. Our telly was broken so I had to watch the World Cup final with a neighbour. I sat squeezed on my friend Colin’s settee as his dad cheered on England with phrases like “Sock it to them Bobby”, as old fashioned now as a football rattle. When England took the lead for the second time I remember thinking, what will it feel like, when we English are actually Champions of the World. Not long after I knew. It felt good.

Wembley Stadium, 30 July 1966, was our only ever World Cup win. But let’s imagine what it would be like if, as with our rivals, we’d won it many times? Brazil have been World Champions on five occasions, Germany four, and Italy four. Most England fans would be “over the moon” if they could boast a similarly glorious record. They’re wrong. I believe it’s wonderful that we’ve only triumphed once. We all share that one single powerful memory. Sometimes in life less is definitely more.

Something extraordinary has happened. Few of us are even old enough to remember, but somehow, we all know everything that happened that day. Even if you care little about the beautiful game, I’m going to bet that you can recall as many as five iconic moments from 50 years ago. You will have clearly in your mind the BBC commentator Kenneth Wolstenholme’s famous lines, as Geoff Hurst tore down the pitch to score his hat-trick: “Some people are on the pitch. They think it’s all over. It is now”. And it was. 4 - 2 to England against West Germany. Thirty minutes earlier the Germans had equalised in the dying moments of the second half to take the game to extra time.

More drama we all share: Geoff Hurst’s second goal. Or the goal that wasn’t, as technology has since, I think, conclusively proved. The shot that crashed off the cross bar and did or didn’t cross the line. Of course, even if you weren’t alive at the time, you will know that the linesman, one Tofiq Bakhramov, from Azerbaijan (often incorrectly referred to as “Russian”) could speak not a word of English, signalled it as a goal.

Then there’s the England Captain, the oh-so-young and handsome Bobby Moore. The very embodiment of the era. You can picture him now wiping his muddy hands on his white shorts before he shakes hands with a youthful Queen Elizabeth. Later you see him lifted aloft by his team mates holding the small golden Jules Rimet trophy.

How incredible, how simply marvellous that as a nation we share such golden memories. How sad for the Brazilians and Germans. Their more numerous triumphs are dissipated through the generations. In those countries each generation will remember each victory but not with the intensity with which we English still celebrate 1966. It’s as if sex was best the first time. The first cut is the deepest.

On Colin’s dad’s TV the pictures were black and white and so were the flags. Recently I looked at the full colour Pathe newsreel of the game. It’s the red, white and blue of the Union Jack that dominates. The red cross of Saint George didn’t really come into prominence until the Nineties. The left don’t like flags much, unless they’re “deepest red”. Certainly not the Union Flag. It smacks of imperialism perhaps. In 1966 we didn’t seem to know if we were English or British. Maybe there was, and still is, something admirable and casual about not knowing who we are or what is our proper flag. 

Twelve years later I’m in Cuba at the “World Festival of Youth” – the only occasion I’ve represented my country. It was my chance to march into a stadium under my nation’s flag. Sadly, it never happened as my fellow delegates argued for hours over what, if any, flag we British should walk behind. The delegation leaders – you will have heard of them now, but they were young and unknown then – Peter Mandelson, Trevor Phillips and Charles Clarke, had to find a way out of this impasse. In the end, each delegation walked into the stadium behind their flag, except the British. Poor Mandelson stood alone for hours holding Union Jack, sweltering in the tropical sun. No other country seemed to have a problem with their flag. I guess theirs speak of revolution; ours of colonialism.

On Saturday 30 July BBC Radio 2 will commemorate the 50th anniversary of the 1966 World Cup Final, live from Wembley Arena. Such a celebration is only possible because on 16 occasions we failed to win that trophy. Let’s banish this idea of “Fifty years of hurt” once and for all and embrace the joy of only winning once.

Phil Jones edits the Jeremy Vine Show on BBC Radio 2. On Saturday 30 July the station celebrates the 50th anniversary of the 1966 World Cup Final live from Wembley Arena, telling the story of football’s most famous match, minute by minuteTickets are available from: www.wc66.org