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Spokane, Washington  Est. May 19, 1883

Defending Rights Aclu President Nadine Strossen Believes In The Work She Does

Lynne Marek Chicago Tribune

Nadine Strossen was not satisfied by the swinging hips of a bar dancer clad in just a G-string. The law professor wanted to see more - wanted totally nude dancing.

After Strossen, who is president of the American Civil Liberties Union, received an invitation to the bar from a law student who was dancing her way through school, Strossen was happy to oblige. It was a chance to meet the woman who thanked her for trumpeting the right of women to perform nude.

But when Strossen discovered that the dancers were not completely in the buff, she set out on another night with a male friend to find the real thing, she said in an interview in her office. Now Strossen brags that the friend lost his bet that he could make her gag at the raunchiest of the New York bars. She saw nothing that upset her.

In fact, the most poignant moment for Strossen that night was a tender one. The sexy gyrations that some would call seamy, were overshadowed by one man’s gentle stroking of a dancer’s foot. That sight confirmed for Strossen that the scene is more about loneliness than libido.

“It was clearly consistent with the fantasy that we’re in this relationship and I’m having a tender exchange with her,” Strossen said. “On the whole, the atmosphere was these women are so wanted by the men and not just as sex objects but as young, attractive people.”

Make no mistake. Strossen, the first woman to lead the nation’s stronghold for individual rights, is clearly not into traditional family values.

She calls herself a “total atheist.” She has never wanted children. And she has her own subscription to Playboy magazine.

In defense of free speech, the articulate native Midwesterner, who became president of the American Civil Liberties Union in 1991, is one of the most outspoken protectors of what she calls “sexual expression.” Her new book, “Defending Pornography: Free Speech, Sex and the Fight for Women’s Rights” (Scribner, $22), was published Jan. 16, just days before the ACLU was to celebrate its 75th anniversary.

“Defending Pornography,” wrapped in a yellow jacket with large, bright red, pink, orange and blue letters, screams from bookstore shelves Strossen and the ACLU’s trademark message of tolerance.

The book takes on antipornography feminists and argues that there is no evidence that pornography leads to sexual violence or negative attitudes toward women. On the contrary, it can be instructional and even used as a sexual stimulant for sexually frustrated couples, she thinks.

She also writes that pornography breaks down traditional stereotypes “by depicting females as voluntarily, joyfully participating in sexual encounters with men on an equal basis.”

In addition, censorship of “any pornography,” even child pornography, is a civil-liberties infringement that Strossen claims will backfire on women.

In the early 1900s, abortion rights activist Margaret Sanger, one of the ACLU’s first clients, was prosecuted under anti-obscenity laws for distributing information on sex and contraception. More recently, Strossen points to new Canadian anti-pornography laws that have censored lesbian publications.

“It’s funny how many people will just tell me, ‘I never look at (pornography), I hate it,’ but then will proceed to give these global pronouncements,” Strossen said.

Her book is the latest to be thrown into the fray of a deeply divided feminist debate on pornography that stars her arch nemesis, University of Michigan law professor Catharine MacKinnon, whose 1993 book, “Only Words,” disputes Strossen.

Morrison Torrey, a law professor at DePaul University, in Chicago, who has been active in the debate over pornography, contends there is a link between pornography and violence against women.

She also decries the ACLU’s pressing panic buttons with the word “censorship” when she and her antipornography colleagues advocate only civil laws that would allow people to sue the producers of pornography.

“I’m not saying that the ACLU is pimping for pornographers, but they clearly have connections,” said Torrey, who pointed out derisively that the Playboy Foundation contributes to the ACLU. (According to the foundation, various ACLU offices received $8,000 in 1994 and $15,500 in 1993.)

During an interview, Strossen kicked off her shoes and sat comfortably on her feet in her Manhattan College, New York Law School office. Above her, awards and newspaper clips made her walls look like a Strossen scrapbook.

As the 44-year-old spoke, she frequently batted her eyelashes as she delivered classic civil-libertarian quips. Asked if the ACLU is too purist in its mission, she recited from former presidential candidate Barry Goldwater.

“‘Extremism in defense of liberty is no vice, moderation against liberty is no virtue,”’ Strossen rattled off. “But having said that, no right is absolute, and the ACLU has never said that any right is absolute.”

The ACLU is waging hundreds of legal battles nationwide. The big wars presently are on behalf of Shannon Faulkner’s right to attend The Citadel, an all-male, state-funded military college in South Carolina; challenging voter initiatives that have banned safeguarding gay rights; and seeking to overturn school-prayer statutes.

The ACLU, which claims some 5,000 volunteer lawyers in 51 chapters nationwide, will even come to the defense of its adversaries. When New York City banned the graphic photos displayed at subway stations by antipornography activists, it sued the city on behalf of the activists.

“To me, what is special,” said Strossen, “and there are many things that are special about the ACLU, but if I had to single out one, I would say it is that we are the only organization that fights for all fundamental rights for all people.”

Strossen’s education was deeply entangled in ivy. After graduating from Radcliffe College in 1972, she went on to Harvard Law School, where she was editor of the Harvard Law Review.

The native Minnesotan practiced law for five years during the late 1970s and early 1980s in Minneapolis and in New York.

It was never her aim to become a law professor, but she was pleasantly surprised by the job, especially teaching students at New York Law School.

“You feel as if you are making much more of a difference in their lives than you could ever make in the lives of students who all throughout their educational career and home life have always been among very intelligent, motivated people with basically liberal, intellectual values,” Strossen said.

As she was growing up in Hopkins, a Minneapolis suburb, her mother taught her she could be anything she wanted, but the active National Organization of Women member also forbade her daughter to play with dolls. Strossen half-jokingly suggests that may be connected to her decision to forgo children in pursuit of an ambitious and unfettered lifestyle.

Strossen knew even in high school, where she was the only girl on the debate team, that she liked to challenge conventional wisdom.

For now, Strossen plans to run around the country doing just that on behalf of the ACLU. Ever organized, she said she won’t stop until at least the year 2001.