Can marriage be taught?

Anne Johnson and Lloyd Hayhurst want to get married someday, but they are approaching the altar cautiously. Both have been divorced before. As they contemplate saying "I do," the two are seeking help to ensure this relationship lasts.

That's why they are crowded around a U-shaped table with other couples in the snug offices of Redbud Family Counseling in Oklahoma City on a recent Friday evening. They are here to learn how to avoid marital land mines and how to slow down even the fastest spousal insult.

Their instructor, a plucky therapist and minister's daughter, has distilled the two-day workshop into two goals that fit neatly on a dry-erase board: 1) Learn how to handle conflict constructively; 2) Learn how to maintain and promote intimacy.

For Ms. Johnson and her beau, handling conflict starts with being candid about the kind of problems that often divide the sexes, like snapdragons.

"I expected him to know that I like flowers," she says emphatically. "Every girl does."

"I'm not really a flower buyer," says Mr. Hayhurst, apologetically. "You're not really going to have them very long anyway."

What's going on in this well-appointed conference room, besides some "When Harry Met Sally"-style dialogue, is one of the nation's most ambitious attempts to improve the institution of marriage.

Across the country, the quest to strengthen the bond between couples is fast becoming a priority for governments at all levels.

After decades of lamenting the nation's stubborn divorce rate, many lawmakers now want to confront the problem early on – improving marriages before the partners get to the point of dividing up the CDs and the wagon-wheel coffee table.

At least a dozen states have passed legislation or are considering bills to encourage marriage education. In Louisiana this year, Gov. Mike Foster (R) appointed a commission to look at ways to promote marriage. High school seniors in Florida are now required to take a relationship-skills course before they graduate. And localities as diverse as Chattanooga, Tenn., and Grand Rapids, Mich., are getting involved in premarital counseling.

President Bush wants everyone to just get along, too. He has included marriage education in his welfare-reform proposal that Congress is taking up this year. The rationale is that such initiatives will not only help curb divorce rates, but also reduce welfare rolls by cutting down on the number of out-of-wedlock births and single-parent families.

Yet the nation's most extensive experiment in improving the covenant between couples – and the one most often cited as a model – is unfolding here on the plains of Oklahoma. The Oklahoma Marriage Initiative, as it's called, involves churches, counselors, public and private social agencies, schools – and the state's top husband.

"Tell me the goodness of a system where it is easier to get a marriage license than a hunting license," says Gov. Frank Keating (R), one of the originators of the program and its chief cheerleader. "In Oklahoma today, you have to take a course before you can get a hunting license."

Yet underneath the great social venture being tried here and across the country persist two fundamental questions: Can marriage really be taught? And if so, should it be the province of government to teach it?

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That Oklahoma has become the nation's unofficial laboratory for trying to teach the mysteries of marriage may seem unusual. After all, it isn't the first state that comes to mind when you think of divorce.

Oklahoma has a strong tradition of religious and family values, something that's obvious here, where churches are as common as steakhouses and the next mini-sermon is only a block away. "Exercise daily: Walk with God," reads a sign in front of one Oklahoma City church.

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