The LGBTQ Rights Debate Is Just a Political Decoy
Or: Is it really discrimination if no one gets what you're asking for?
Few debates in today’s public discourse are as emotionally charged—and as misunderstood—as the question of LGBTQ rights.
Everyone talks about it, but very few seem to understand what the conversation is really about.
Those who feel something’s off can’t quite articulate why.
And those who do talk about it are already locked into a preprogrammed moral map: heroes vs. villains, oppressors vs. victims.
But that map doesn’t reveal the truth.
It conceals it.
The Two Corners of the Ring – and a Simulated War
This is no longer a discussion. It’s a theatrical battle simulation.
In one corner are those who identify as LGBTQ and feel victimized. Their message is loud and clear:
We can't marry. We can't adopt. Therefore, we are not equal.
In the other corner are people who instinctively feel that something about this narrative isn’t quite right—but they lack the vocabulary to explain why.
They get dragged into a battlefield where the weapons weren’t chosen by them.
And instead of asking the real question—like why is the state involved in marriage at all?—they end up attacking pride marches or panicking about the "spread" of queerness.
By the end of the match, LGBTQ activists leave feeling like winners—yet with no actual changes to their rights.
Their opponents leave feeling defeated—frustrated, angry, but secretly convinced that most people still agree with them.
Both sides lose. Only the politicians win.
Discrimination – or Just a Nonexistent Right?
Public conversation often confuses two crucial concepts:
– Discrimination is when someone is denied something that others are allowed to have.
– Lack of legal expansion is when a new right is requested but hasn’t been granted yet.
Example:
If a straight man could marry another man, but a gay man couldn’t, that would be clear discrimination.
But that’s not the case.
In countries like Hungary:
– No man can marry another man.
– No woman can marry another woman—regardless of sexual orientation.
The same applies to adoption laws. The legal framework is based on behavior and family structure, not identity.
So when someone says, “I can’t marry the person I love,” the honest response is:
Neither can I, if I love someone outside of the legally recognized framework.
If I’m a heterosexual man and I want to marry a man—I can’t either.
That distinction is logically essential—but politically taboo.
Say it out loud, and you’ll be publicly shamed for “bigotry.”
So Is the Demand Legitimate?
At this point, some readers raise a thoughtful counterexample:
“If tomorrow the use of white canes were banned, it would apply to everyone—but it would obviously harm blind people most. Isn’t this the same thing?”
It’s a powerful analogy—but it describes a very different kind of case.
A white cane is a well-established, practical tool that already serves a critical social and physical function.
To ban it would be to revoke an existing right—clearly an act of legal harm.
In contrast, same-sex marriage is not something being taken away. It’s something that hasn’t been granted yet.
This isn’t the removal of a functioning tool—it’s the absence of legal expansion.
It matters whether we're banning a working practice or simply not introducing a new one.
A Thought Experiment – Where Does the “Right to Be Recognized” End?
Let’s go further:
Imagine someone wants their pet—a dog or a cat—to be legally recognized as a full human partner.
Now, this may sound absurd. But many people today treat their pets as family members.
Some would leave them inheritance, make them legal heirs, even—believe it or not—marry them if they could.
Yes, it’s fringe. But such people exist.
If this preference became a movement, got media backing, and more people started “coming out” as wanting to marry their pets—should the state recognize it?
Would it be discrimination if these people can’t marry their animals?
Or is it simply a case where the legal system doesn’t yet consider such a relationship as valid or relevant?
The core question is this:
When does a private desire become a socially meaningful legal institution?
And more importantly:
Just because the law doesn’t validate something—does that automatically make you a second-class citizen?
Meanwhile, the Politicians Are Laughing
Here’s the ugly truth:
This debate isn’t between citizens. It’s a spectacle orchestrated by politicians.
– For the left, it’s a mobilizing identity issue.
– For the right, it’s a fear-based cohesion tool.
– For both, it’s a vote-generating distraction.
All while:
– Education systems collapse,
– Families fall apart,
– Communities atomize,
– And democracy—though technically intact—has functionally stalled.
Yet here we are, still arguing about who can get married—instead of asking why we need state permission at all.
A Quick Personal Note (But Not Irrelevant)
Let me be clear:
I don’t believe the state should have any say in people’s private relationships. Period.
Marriage, to me, is a matter between two people and possibly their community or God—not the government.
The state only inserted itself into marriage so it could:
– Regulate family structures,
– Push demographic goals,
– And control wealth distribution through policy.
That’s why things like state-sponsored family benefits are tied to birth rates and legal status, not the quality of the relationship.
It creates financial incentives for life-altering decisions—and opens the door to fraud, manipulation, and superficial compliance.
So this whole debate—about “who gets to marry”—isn’t really about morality anymore.
It’s about power. And money.
And the real question is this:
Why are we trading more and more of our personal agency for government validation?
Because if we don’t stop and ask now, we may soon lose not just the right to marry—
but the right to live on our own terms altogether.
One Last Thought
This debate fits a larger pattern I’ve written about before:
We are constantly being shoved into manufactured battlefields, where:
– The rules are unclear,
– The stakes are undefined,
– And most of us don’t even know what we’re fighting for.
To make this possible, language must be distorted.
Our capacity for expression and comprehension must be dismantled.
We’re made to believe something real is happening, when in fact nothing is happening—except our manipulation.
Because:
– Someone profits from our confusion,
– Someone maintains power through our infighting,
– And someone builds an empire on our fear, weakness, and distraction.
This is why I don’t “take sides” in the way I’m expected to.
Before we argue, we must understand:
– The frame.
– The definitions.
– The stakes.
– And most of all—who benefits from our division.
This article—and everything I write—is not really about gay rights.
Not about marriage.
Not about the law.
It’s about how thought is shaped—and who gets to write the rules before you even open your mouth.
If this made you think—share it.
If it made you mad—share it even more.
Because dialogue isn’t valuable when everyone agrees.
It’s valuable because we still dare to have it.
—
I write with honesty, not to please algorithms or corporate partners.
If you value independent thought—and want to keep these reflections free from external pressure—consider supporting this space and becoming part of the Commonsense Circle.
Thank you,
JPB
Just one more addition, if I may — and let me be absolutely clear upfront:
I am not equating same-sex marriage with incest or any family-based relationship. This is not a moral comparison.
What I’m pointing to is a logical inconsistency in the way arguments around legal recognition are often structured.
My hope is that, by surfacing this, we might open the door to a more honest and coherent conversation.
Because if the core principle behind marriage rights is that “two consenting adults should be allowed to marry,” then we’re obligated to ask:
– Why not two consenting adult siblings?
– Why not a consenting parent and their adult child?
– Why not three or more consenting adults in a shared union?
The moment I replace “my dog” with “my brother” or “my mother,” the consent-based argument loses its force.
Not because those relationships lack consent — but because we, as a society, have decided they fall outside what we consider worthy of legal or cultural validation.
That’s the point of the analogy: not to shock, not to insult, but to highlight that the law doesn’t just follow love or consent — it follows selective cultural judgment.
This is why certain relationships are granted full recognition, others partial, and many none at all — even when consent is present. Which means: we can’t pretend the issue is simply about fairness or inclusion.
We must ask instead:
Who defines what’s worthy of legal recognition? And on what basis?
These are difficult questions — but avoiding them doesn’t make us more compassionate, just less clear.
And clarity is what we need, if we’re serious about having a conversation that actually moves forward, rather than looping endlessly around moral reflexes and rhetorical landmines.
Thank you again for being part of that conversation.
– JPB
Thanks for your engagement — and allow me to gently add one more reflection.
One of the core reasons I wrote this piece at such length was precisely to avoid superficial takes or accidental misreadings. I wanted to create space for deeper reflection — not to provoke, not to offend, but to step back from the emotional charge and observe the structure of the debate itself.
So I must ask:
Why is it so hard to consider the entire argument as a whole?
Why does our attention so easily narrow down to the one analogy that “feels wrong,” instead of engaging with the full architecture of the point?
When we zoom in on one example — especially one that was clearly marked as a legal thought experiment — and frame it as morally offensive, we risk doing exactly what the essay warns about:
We reduce the debate to victimhood reflexes, and label dissent as provocation.
But provocation only happens if the truth provokes us. And if that’s the case, we should be asking why.
This wasn’t written against anyone. It was written for anyone who’s tired of chasing ghost-enemies and wants to understand the machinery that keeps us distracted, divided, and rhetorically weaponized against each other.
That requires curiosity, nuance, and a willingness to look beyond the surface — even when it’s uncomfortable.
So again, thank you for engaging. Even when we disagree, this is the kind of dialogue that still gives me hope.
– JPB