My Dinner With Valery - NYTimes.com MOSCOW - Each table at this birthday dinner had a name. My girlfriend and I were to be seated at "Progressives 1." When we took our seats, a right-liberal political analyst and a right-liberal political consultant and their two wives were there, and two chairs were still empty. A middle-aged couple arrived a few minutes later. "Oh, Valera, look who we are seated with," the woman exclaimed in excitement and then addressed me, "We read your stuff all the time, and we've seen you on TV." I didn't know who they were. And then I knew. He was Valery Zubov, a former governor and now a member of the lower house of Parliament. He was one of only four Duma members who, back in December, voted against the ban on American adoptions of Russian orphans. That was the last time he or anyone else in the Duma stood up against one of the repressive bills the Kremlin has been spitting out. "You know, I really wanted to interview you after you voted against the adoption ban," I told Zubov. But by the time New Year's holidays ended, you stopped voting against those kinds of bills. You didn't vote against the ban on "homosexual propaganda" or against the ban on adoptions by same-sex couples." These were two bills recently passed by the Duma: The former bans any speech that "may arouse in minors interest in nontraditional sexual relations" or "form the erroneous impression of social equality" of same-sex relationships; the latter bans adoptions by foreigners who are in same-sex marriages and single people from countries where such marriages are legal. "You are wrong," said Zubov. I did not vote for those bills. "But you didn't vote against them," I insisted. "Not voting for the bill is the same as voting against it," Zubov explained. My voice doesn't count toward the majority that the bill needs to pass. I was not convinced: I was in a police transport two weeks earlier when I learned that not a single person had voted against the ban on "homosexual propaganda" while L.G.B.T. activists were being pelted with eggs and excrement and beaten just outside Parliament. "You don't understand what it's like," Zubov said. I can tell you things about the way discussions go during faction meetings - you'd be horrified - or about the way one's voting card can disappear at a key moment. Zubov is a member of Just Russia, a party for which I voted, as did many of my friends in December 2011. "I can tell you a few things too," I said. I can tell you what it was like to be among those beaten outside the Duma on June 11. Or what it was like to put my son on a plane to the U.S. this morning, knowing he won't even be able to come back to visit. What are you afraid of? Zubov's wife suddenly joined in. She thought I was overreacting: Surely these silly laws could not apply to anyone she might meet, much less someone whose journalism she admired. Yet my son, who has been living with me for nearly 12 years, is adopted, and I have reason to fear that the authorities will try to remove him from our family using the law on "homosexual propaganda" or the ban on adoptions by foreign same-sex couples (I have a U.S. passport) or the bill in progress that is designed to remove children from lesbian or gay Russian families. My son has left to go to boarding school in the United States; we will visit him there as often as we can, but as long as these laws are in place, he cannot come home. As all of this dawned on Mrs. Zubov, she looked stricken. "I argued against the propaganda ban in the faction meeting," Zubov said. I told them if we pass it we'll have to strike Michelangelo and Tchaikovsky from the textbooks. "That's good," I said. But it might have been more to the point if you'd pointed out the law actually makes it a crime to claim social equality. It enshrines the idea of second-class citizenship in law. That's fascism. "They wouldn't understand that," Zubov said of his fellow party members. You know, this Duma will pass laws that are even worse. There is no way to prevent it. In that case your only remaining weapon is making a public statement. That would mean voting against these bills rather than not voting. This point he conceded. But, he said, "I have to think about what I am going to say to my voters when I go back to my region. You know how much attention there was when I voted against the adoption ban? But at least I could explain that, and people understood. They won't understand this. Zubov represents a large district in Siberia, one of the most liberal in the country. "That just means you need help," I insisted. I can come with you: I have 25 years of experience explaining these issues to people. Better yet, I can hook you up with someone in your region. Someone who has kids and can ask your voters to think about the idea that it's better for them to grow up in orphanages than at home. One of the bills the Duma is expected to take up soon would allow the authorities to remove both adopted and biological children from same-sex households. Zubov looked frightened. He must have imagined what would happen to his political career if he appeared in public with an openly gay person, and he said, "Well, if it's that important to you, I'll vote against it." He clearly made the promise under duress: Russian politicians are not accustomed to being challenged by constituents. But I suspect that when voting time comes, he will feel other pressures - and there once again won't be a single opposing vote. Later, when I looked up his record, I discovered Zubov did not exactly tell the truth over dinner: He had refrained from a couple of votes, but he had voted in favor of each of these homophobic laws at least once.