The Conservative Case

How the Conservatives Won the Battle But Surrendered the War

I. What We Accomplished

The chart you are looking at depicts a truly unprecedented—almost miraculous—shift in the hearts and minds of the American people. But to fully grasp what happened (and how it happened), we must look beyond the numbers and trendlines and step back to consider the enormity of the question itself. This is not a typical Gallup poll about support for raising the minimum wage or lowering taxes. This is something far more profound.

We were asking people to reconsider their fundamental understanding of one of the most enduring institutions in human history. We were asking them to rethink its obvious connection to human sexuality and reproduction. And in a deeply religious nation—still among the most religious in developed Western societies—we were asking them to alter an institution central to nearly every faith, one that has long been the foundation of our culture and social fabric. Marriage is not merely a legal contract; it is a defining milestone in life, a wellspring of hope, and a vision of the future that every boy and girl dreams of.

Before we move forward to evaluate the arguments that led to marriage equality—arguments often delivered with a healthy dose of self-righteousness and indignation—we owe something to the American people: To the American people, whose enormous hearts, full of compassion, made our marriages possible, we owe gratitude, grace, and humility. In this era, where hate and division, fear and anger, despair and loneliness are threats that seem impossible to escape or overcome, I look at that chart and see more than hope; I see the real America.

II. The Champions of the Conservative Case

The argument that delivered marriage equality succeeded because it was grounded in humility. Often called “the conservative case” for same-sex marriage, the arguments that won the battle for hearts and minds did not place freedom or equality at the center. Instead, these arguments rested upon a passionate defense of the institution itself, where the rules and constraints it demanded were seen not as obstacles to liberation but as the very means of achieving the true promise of same-sex marriage.

Simply put, the conservative case for same-sex marriage was a humble request—not a strident demand—to grant us access to this cherished institution; to accommodate the love we experienced and that most would come to understand as just as real and beautiful as their own; to share in the bonds of fidelity and monogamy that define the institution.

The radical left would often use what they saw as terms of derision to describe these arguments: “heteronormative” and “assimilationist.”

And they were precisely right.

Starting in the late 1980s and early 1990s, a handful of intellectuals who developed the “conservative case” were, in fact, the true vanguard—the real radicals—of a nascent movement to turn the non-sequitur of “same-sex marriage” into a reality. While many people contributed to the intellectual and strategic architecture of this movement, two, in particular, were especially formative for me personally and played an indispensable role: Andrew Sullivan and Jonathan Rauch.

These new radicals reframed gay marriage not as a wild redefinition of family, as most people saw it, but as an essentially conservative, civilizing institution that gay people needed as much as straight people did. Andrew Sullivan first laid out the early contours of the conservative case for gay marriage in The New Republic in 1989, arguing that same-sex marriage would offer “emotional security and economic prudence” and would “coax gays into traditional values rather than rail incoherently against them.”[1] Sullivan did not present marriage as simply a right to be granted; he positioned it as a necessity—one that would strengthen commitment and curb the loneliness and instability of single life.

Imagining life without marriage, Jonathan Rauch said, is to imagine “a much lonelier, much more vulnerable life.” Gay people, he insisted, “need all the same safety” and caregiving that come with marriage.

“America’s problem is not too many marriages, it’s too few. Gay people are asking to be part of this social contract—to care for each other so society doesn’t have to.”[2]

This framing flipped the script: instead of portraying gay marriage as an attack on family values, Sullivan and Rauch portrayed it as an extension of family values to a group that had been excluded. As Sullivan quipped, it was “conservative in the best sense of the word” to let gay citizens join an institution that promotes commitment. This conservative case for gay marriage offered many Americans, including those with traditional or religious leanings, a reason to reconsider their opposition. After all, if marriage encourages monogamy, responsibility, and family bonds, why wouldn’t society want more of it? These appeals were all the more salient in light of what the world had just witnessed—a plague that would decimate an entire generation of young gay men.

III. After the Devastation

“I don’t believe that without AIDS, we would have marriage equality today. I just don’t.” -Andrew Sullivan [3]

The idea of “gay marriage” began to be more widely imagined in the wake of the AIDS epidemic. In the 1970s, the gay male subculture in cities like New York and San Francisco was largely defined around sexual freedom. Casual sex and multiple partners were common; the ethos was liberation from the oppressive heteronormative culture. But then HIV/AIDS struck “almost poignantly at the headiest moment of liberation,”[4] as Sullivan later wrote, devastating that generation. Virtually an entire cohort of gay men—the pioneers of the sexually “radical, subversive” gay culture—was wiped out.

Sullivan’s advocacy for marriage was deeply tied to the lessons of AIDS. He argued that the epidemic, exacerbated by an environment of high promiscuity and a lack of legal bonds between partners, showed the urgent need for more stability in gay men’s lives. Marriage, he believed, could literally be a lifesaver—a way to encourage monogamy and safer sexual behavior. “[I]n the wake of AIDS,” gay marriage would be a “public health measure,”[5] channeling gay male energy into lasting partnerships. For conservatives who had long scolded gay men for alleged promiscuity, Sullivan offered a challenge: if you truly deplore promiscuity, then support the cure.

Jonathan Rauch echoed these themes. He pointed to the gay male sexual culture of the pre-AIDS era as an example of what can happen in a community with no access to marriage’s stabilizing structure. Rauch argued it was perverse to blame gay men for instability or promiscuity when the very institution that might encourage fidelity had been kept off-limits. If anything, he suggested, the AIDS tragedy underscored why gay people needed the tools of responsibility. In short, marriage equality was framed as a remedy—a way to heal a community battered by loss, by giving it the same hopes and disciplines that marriage had long provided straight couples.

IV. Winning Hearts and Minds

This “conservative” case for gay marriage initially sounded jarring—even ironic—to both the right and the left. But it proved to be extremely effective. The brilliance of Sullivan and Rauch’s approach was how it reached beyond the queer community to persuade the wider public—including moderates, conservative-leaning voters, and even some religious Americans. They did this by tackling head-on the fears people had about gay marriage and flipping those concerns into positives.

For example, social conservatives often warned that gay men were too promiscuous or uncommitted to sustain marriages, and that letting them wed would undermine the sanctity of marriage. Sullivan’s rebuttal was essentially: if you worry some gay men have a reckless sex life, all the more reason to let them marry and encourage “a deeper and harder-to-extract-yourself-from commitment to another human being.”[7] Marriage, he noted wryly, demands monogamy and responsibility—but we don’t pre-judge straight couples on their ability to meet those ideals before granting a license. This logic hit home with many moderate conservatives: instead of viewing gay marriage as a threat, it portrayed marriage itself as a guiding light that could uplift a community often stereotyped as living in chaos.

The conservative advocates often argued that same-sex couples wanted to join the institution of marriage because they believed in its values of fidelity and mutual care—hardly the stance of radicals looking to destroy it. This proved persuasive to key decision-makers. When the Supreme Court ruled in Obergefell v. Hodges (2015) that same-sex marriage was a constitutional right, Justice Anthony Kennedy’s majority opinion sounded notes that could have come straight from a Sullivan or Rauch essay. Kennedy spoke of marriage in almost reverential terms—calling it a unique bond central to human dignity and noting that gay people seek not to demean marriage but to share in its “nobility and dignity.”[8] The intellectual groundwork laid by Sullivan and Rauch—emphasizing dignity, stability, and commitment—was reflected in these legal arguments.

Even some religious conservatives found themselves moved by the conservative case for gay marriage. A notable example is David Blankenhorn, who had testified against gay marriage in the California Prop 8 initiative. By 2012, Blankenhorn publicly changed his position, writing, “the time has come for me to accept gay marriage and emphasize the positives it may bring to society.”[9] What changed his mind? He cited the desire of gay couples to adopt marital responsibility and the fact that gay marriage “could help strengthen the institution of marriage.” Blankenhorn’s reversal was lauded by Andrew Sullivan, who called him “the most intellectually honest, non-homophobic opponent of marriage equality” for coming around.

Blankenhorn wasn’t alone. Other moderate figures, including columnist David Brooks, endorsed gay marriage in 2003 by echoing Sullivan’s logic that marriage domesticates and nurtures moral commitment in people; Brooks argued that society should want gay couples to marry because it signals commitment and fidelity as societal norms.[10] Former Solicitor General Ted Olson, a staunch Republican, not only changed his mind in large part because of the conservative case but also became one of the lead attorneys arguing for marriage equality at the Supreme Court.[11] In Great Britain, Conservative Prime Minister David Cameron adopted the talking points Sullivan and Rauch pioneered: “I don’t support gay marriage in spite of being a conservative,” Cameron famously said, “I support gay marriage because I am a conservative.”[12]

These arguments were persuasive because they found easy common ground with the vast middle of American society, unlike the anti-assimilationist left and progressive activists who would often dismiss opponents as homophobes and oppressors. By the time Obergefell was decided, a majority of Americans supported same-sex marriage—including growing segments of independents and Republicans.[13] It is hard to imagine Obergefell in the absence of that dramatic shift in public opinion.

V. The Progressive Argument

Progressive LGBTQ activists—led by advocacy organizations like The Human Rights Campaign (HRC)—did not begin to emphasize same-sex marriage as an advocacy priority until the late-1990s, largely in response to the Defense of Marriage Act.[14] Many progressive activists prior to that had little interest in what was dismissed as a conservative, heteronormative institution with little relevance or benefit to gays and lesbians. When progressives joined the fight for same-sex marriage, they did so by replicating the American civil rights playbook: same-sex couples were entitled to the same legal recognition and benefits that heterosexual married couples enjoyed; marriage was a civil right that was unjustly denied to gay people, constituting a form of discrimination.

This egalitarian, rights-based narrative focused on principles of fairness and equality. Evan Wolfson, a prominent gay rights lawyer and founder of Freedom to Marry, advised supporters as early as 1995 to speak of marriage as a basic human right and an individual personal choice.[15] This language deliberately echoed the universal rights discourse of other civil rights movements. By framing marriage as a basic right that should not be denied, progressives sought to link their cause to America’s long tradition of defending equality under the law. For years, this was the dominant emphasis of mainstream gay rights organizations.

This approach resonated strongly with the progressive base. Those already supportive of LGBTQ rights found the equality argument morally compelling, fitting into a broader liberal worldview that champions civil rights and combats discrimination. Messaging about fairness and equality, symbolized in the popular HRC equal-sign logo, helped mobilize supporters and donors who saw marriage equality as the next step in the civil rights struggle. It also provided a clear, principled legal rationale in the courts.

While the civil rights argument for gay marriage was powerful in principle, in practice it often failed to win over middle America during the early years of the marriage debate. Polling throughout the 1990s and early 2000s showed a majority of Americans opposed to same-sex marriage, even as many supported basic gay rights like employment non-discrimination.[16] Gay activists’ emphasis on legal equality did not easily shift these entrenched attitudes.

A study by Hattaway Communications, which worked with HRC, found that most ambivalent voters viewed marriage as “a long-term commitment between two people,” not a bundle of rights.[17] When gay advocates talked about hospital visitation rights or tax fairness, uncommitted listeners often failed to emotionally connect. In fact, after California’s high-profile Prop 8 battle (2008) succeeded in banning same-sex marriage, the post-mortem consensus was that emphasizing constitutional rights and discrimination had not worked to sway voters.[18] Dozens of state-level defeats taught a hard lesson: a campaign framed around legal equality alone was “not moving voters and legislators” who were skeptical about gay marriage.[19]

Rauch was one of the leading voices critiquing the progressive, rights-based framing of marriage equality. He noted that the focus on legal rights and discrimination largely appealed to the already sympathetic LGBTQ community but did little to sway the broader public. He argued that the “rights-based” framing was effective for galvanizing the base but often alienated those outside of it, especially moderates or conservatives, who may not have immediately understood the compelling necessity of legal recognition for same-sex couples.[20]

The progressives’ attempt to dust off the American civil rights playbook and recycle it for the same-sex marriage debate was not only inadequate, it revealed a profound misunderstanding of what they were fighting for. LGBTQ Americans have been subject to horrendous discrimination, but being excluded from the institution of marriage was not Jim Crow.

Many Americans in the 1990s did not view gay couples as a class being denied something to which they were entitled; rather, they saw marriage as something inherently defined by heterosexual unions. Thus, asserting it was a violation of equal rights bumped up against a definitional belief (one man and one woman) that the rights argument was unable to overcome. However, the arguments failed not so much on their merits but rather because it created confrontation and division. Instead of fostering dialogue to seek common ground, it framed the issue in the stark moral terms of civil rights—casting one side as victims and the other as oppressors. Opposition to same-sex marriage was not merely a differing opinion; it represented opposition to equality and fairness itself, branding dissent as an act of discrimination against an oppressed group.

Over time, progressive advocates began to realize the limitations of their rights-based messaging.[21] They shifted their approach to focus more on the emotional and cultural dimensions of marriage, aligning more closely with the conservative case. Instead of solely arguing for marriage as a legal entitlement, advocates began highlighting the personal commitment and stability that marriage provided. The focus shifted toward the desire of gays and lesbians to create committed, stable families, which resonated more with a broader public audience. In this sense, the progressive argument started to mirror the conservative case in its focus on marriage as an institution that benefits individuals and society, not just as a legal entitlement.

This shift was crucial in winning over public opinion, especially as campaigns for marriage equality began to have greater visibility and exposure to the broad American public, and as donors started pouring money into the effort. [22] The embrace of family values and commitment helped soften the hard-edged rights rhetoric. More importantly, the progressives finally recognized what the American public and the conservatives already knew: the fight was about marriage, and less about gay civil rights.

VI. The Radical Left’s Trap

Arguably, the most vehement opposition to the conservative case emerged from the radical left rather than the far right. [23] From the outset, conservatives advocating for same-sex marriage faced fierce resistance from radical left activists. The radical left had long rejected same-sex marriage as an existential threat to the LGBTQ community because it sought to deny what they viewed as central to queer identity—namely, sexual freedom.

They understood what others were unwilling to acknowledge: marriage is largely defined by monogamy—the antithesis of the freedom at the very center of queer identity. For these activists, the logic was inescapable: embracing marriage amounted to a fundamental betrayal, effectively asking gay people to renounce the sexual liberation that had defined their struggle for decades.

Sullivan argued that marriage equality was not about imposing conformity but about expanding choices; marriage equality would simply add another option to the spectrum of relationship models. As Sullivan later remarked, “[We] weren’t forcing anyone to walk down the aisle; [we] were widening the realm of choice.” He noted that “The left—gay male and lesbian—[eventually] recognized that what was at stake was not corralling all gay individuals into a conformist social institution, but a widening of choice for all.”[24]

Rauch contended that marriage was simply an option, and its availability did not force conformity. He emphasized that gay people could still choose to engage in non-monogamous relationships or explore alternative models if they wished. The aim was not to enforce uniformity but to create more options for gay individuals, allowing them to choose what form of commitment, if any, was most meaningful.[25]

Looking back, one can see that the radical left laid a trap into which conservative advocates fell.

Perhaps because Sullivan and Rauch were, in fact, conservative, they could readily see weaknesses in progressive demands for equality and justice, yet struggled to counter arguments rooted in individual freedom. On the question of individual autonomy, conservatives and the radical left shared far more in common ideologically than with progressives.

Of course, the radicals knew perfectly well that neither Sullivan nor Rauch (nor anyone, for that matter) wanted to force people into marriage or monogamy. However, they also understood that coaxing conservatives to defend same-sex marriage on libertarian terms would expose a glaring contradiction and weakness in their argument.

The radical left’s logic was clear and unyielding: if being gay means embracing sexual freedom and marriage requires monogamy, then the two are logically at odds. The radicals grasped the underlying arguments of the conservative case better than the conservatives themselves. Specifically, they recognized that the conservative case rested on the same logic of their arguments:¹

1. Marriage is largely defined by the expectation of monogamy,

2. Same-sex marriage will change gay culture and identity,

3. Therefore, monogamy is the operative mechanism that will change gay culture.
   

Radical critics understood that if marriage did not commit individuals to monogamy, then they had nothing to fear and that the stability and moral structure conservatives promised (to change gay culture) would fail. Yet conservatives, wary of language that might restrict personal autonomy—especially in sexuality—never fully embraced an explicit defense of monogamy. Unable (or unwilling) to mount a robust defense of monogamy, their case devolved into reducing monogamous marriage to merely one option among many.

And yet, the public understood from the outset that the euphemisms Sullivan and Rauch employed—“fidelity,” “commitment,” “exclusivity”—were meant to evoke monogamy. At the same time, conservatives felt compelled to appease critics and the broader LGBTQ community with the language of “freedom” and “choice.”

Although never explicitly stated, the conservative case for marriage equality was intended to change gay culture. Extending marriage rights was not just about legal recognition—it was about promoting a moral framework aimed, in large part, at stemming the chaos of promiscuity. Again, conservatives used euphemisms to describe both the problem and the desired outcome (e.g., “stability,” “responsibility”).

The radicals understood, however, that for conservatives to achieve the cultural change they sought—and that radicals despised—monogamy would need to be an expectation, not simply a “choice.” But instead of directly defending monogamy as the bedrock of marriage, conservatives sidestepped the issue, reassuring audiences that they were as committed as any other LGBTQ community member to freedom and self-expression.

The tension between sexual freedom and monogamy became increasingly evident as the movement for marriage equality advanced. In the years since Obergefell, an intra-community debate—often hushed—has persisted over whether gay men, in particular, have embraced the monogamous “happily ever after” model that marriage implies. [26]

Even during the push for marriage rights, it was an open secret that many gay male couples negotiated alternative definitions of commitment, sometimes incorporating consensual non-monogamy (often euphemistically termed “monogamish”). Andrew Sullivan himself had long acknowledged that gay male relationships might not mirror heterosexual ones in one key respect.

Back in 1989, Sullivan hedged that “many gay men may not, in practice, want to marry,” but those who did would be serious about it. He also noted playfully that if gay men (being men) statistically struggled with monogamy, then gay women (being women) might excel at it—so the two could balance out. Yet these comments aside, Sullivan spent years foregrounding the importance of fidelity and the presumption that gay couples would honor the vows of marriage as straight couples are expected to. This idealized vision of gay marriage was grounded in the belief that marriage would tame the excesses of gay culture by encouraging lasting commitment.

Then, in a twist that did not go unnoticed as marriage equality neared reality, Sullivan and others began speaking openly about the unique dynamics of gay male marriages—including the possibility that monogamy might not be the goal. In a 2012 blog post titled “The Future of Promiscuity,” Sullivan entertained the idea—floated by writer Marc Ambinder—that society might come to accept “dignified promiscuity”: open relationships and marriages in which the negative externalities of promiscuity are managed and safe sex is respected, even within an ethic that allows for a more interesting sex life. [27]

In Sullivan’s view, such arrangements, kept private and honest, could make some marriages more durable, not less. “Gay male marriages may require some discreet adjustments as time goes by in order to keep the union alive and healthy,” he wrote, arguing that what matters is the external model of lifelong commitment, not outsiders policing a couple’s intimate details. The message was clear: monogamy, while a cherished ideal for heterosexuals, might not be an absolute in every same-sex marriage, and perhaps that was okay. Sullivan even suggested that gay couples could potentially “lead the way in resuscitating [marriage] for the 21st Century” by exploring these new forms of commitment—an intriguing coda to his early arguments.[27]

VII. The Broken Promise

On June 26, 2015, the Obergefell ruling capped a remarkable transformation: marriage equality became the law of the land. The conservative case had won the battle of public opinion, enabling the legal victory and fulfilling Sullivan’s prediction that gay marriage was “the only reform that truly matters” in achieving gay equality. Sullivan himself, present on the Supreme Court steps that day, wept with joy as couples celebrated. Rauch, too, hailed the decision as a victory not only for gay people but for the institution of marriage itself—an expansion of its reach and relevance.

However, winning the legal war did not settle the cultural questions that Sullivan and Rauch had raised. In fact, one could argue that the moral argument for marriage that carried the victory began to fade from prominence almost as soon as the ink dried on the Court’s decision. The campaign had sold marriage as an antidote to gay male loneliness, promiscuity, and instability—a way to inculcate monogamy, encourage fidelity, and bolster family. But once marriage was accessible, would the culture of gay relationships actually change to reflect those ideals? Or had those ideals merely been a convenient rallying cry?

Among the many ironies in the fight for marriage equality, some are worth celebrating. The church, once a staunch opponent, became an unlikely agent in normalizing same-sex unions. But others cut deeper, exposing a fundamental betrayal. The most painful irony is that the conservative case for same-sex marriage—built on the promise that marriage would provide the same stabilizing force for gay couples as it had for straight ones—was undermined from within.

The supposed stability that marriage was meant to provide did not stem solely from a legal contract—it derived from the shared social and cultural expectation that those entering marriage were committing to an exclusive partnership: monogamy. Without that expectation, marriage lost its distinctiveness and, with it, the very justification that had won over skeptics in the first place.

The conservative case for marriage equality won the hearts and minds of millions and delivered a stunning legal victory, but its champions ultimately surrendered the war.

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Footnotes

[1] Sullivan, A. (1989, August 28). Here comes the groom: A (conservative) case for gay marriage. The New Republic, 20–22.

[2] Rauch, J. (1996, May 6). A more perfect union: The case for liberal marriage. The New Republic, 18–21.

[3] Cowen, T. (Host). (2021, August 11). Andrew Sullivan on braving new intellectual journeys (No. 129) [Audio podcast episode]. In Conversations with Tyler. Mercatus Center.

https://conversationswithtyler.com/episodes/andrew-sullivan

[4] Sullivan, A. (1995). Virtually normal: An argument about homosexuality. Knopf.

[5] Sullivan, A. (1996). Virtually normal: An argument about homosexuality. Vintage. (See discussion on marriage as a “public health measure.”)

[6] Sullivan, A. (1996). Love undetectable: Notes on friendship, sex, and survival. Knopf. (Essay reflecting on his HIV diagnosis and sexual behavior.)

[7] Sullivan, A. (1989, August 28). Here comes the groom: A (conservative) case for gay marriage. The New Republic, 20–22.

[8] Obergefell v. Hodges, 576 U.S. 644 (2015).

[9] Blankenhorn, D. (2012, June 22). How my view on gay marriage changed. The New York Times. https://www.nytimes.com/2012/06/23/opinion/how-my-view-on-gay-marriage-changed.html

[10] Brooks, D. (2003, November 22). The power of marriage. The New York Times.

[11] Olson, T. (2010). The conservative case for gay marriage. Newsweek, 155(4), 48–52.

[12] Cameron, D. (2011, October 5). Conservative Party Conference Speech. https://www.gov.uk/government/speeches/pms-speech-at-conservative-party-conference

[13] Brennan Center for Justice. (2015). The improbable victory of marriage equality. [Briefing paper].

[14] Human Rights Campaign. (n.d.). Federal Marriage Amendment/Defense of Marriage Act timeline. [HRC Archive].

[15] Wolfson, E. (1995). Why marriage matters: America, equality, and gay people's right to marry. (Early pamphlets and speeches compiled by Freedom to Marry.)

[16] Pew Research Center. (2013). A survey of LGBT Americans. [Data on public opinion].

[17] Hattaway Communications. (n.d.). Lessons from the frontlines of marriage equality. [Report for HRC].

[18] Ball, M. (2012, August 28). The marriage plot. The Atlantic.

[19] Brennan Center for Justice. (2015). The improbable victory of marriage equality. [Briefing paper].

[20] Rauch, J. (2008, May 13). Gay marriage: Why it happened. The New Republic.

[21] Socarides, R. (2012). Post-Prop 8 messaging and the shift in marriage equality campaigns. [Commentary].

[22] Forge Organizing. (2020). Love is love and other stories: Narrative in winning freedom to marry.\

[23] Sullivan, A. (2015). It is accomplished. The Atlantic.

[24] Sullivan, A. (2015, June 26). Marriage equality: A day to remember. The Dish. Retrieved from http://andrewsullivan.com/dish/

[25] Rauch, J. (2004). Gay marriage: Why it is good for gays, good for straights, and good for America. Basic Books.

[26] Eskridge, W. N. (1996). The case for same-sex marriage. The Free Press.

[27] Sullivan, A. (2012, May 27). The future of promiscuity. The Dish. https://dish.andrewsullivan.com/2012/05/27/the-future-of-promiscuity/

1. • M(x): “x is a marriage”
• L(x): “x exhibits lifelong monogamy”
• C(x): “x brings about a change in gay culture”
• SSM(x): “x is a same‐sex marriage”

1. monogamy is what defines marriage: (∀x [M(x) → L(x)])

2. Same-sex marriage will change gay culture: (∀x [SSM(x) → C(x)]).

3. monogamy is the operative mechanism of changing gay culture: ∀x [SSM(x) → (L(x) ∧ C(x))]