Abortion's battle of messages
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It's not 1973.
Pro-choice forces must adjust to regain the moral high ground.
By Frances Kissling and
Kate Michelman
January 22, 2008
Thirty-five years ago, the Supreme Court affirmed in Roe vs. Wade
that women have a fundamental right to choose abortion without government
interference. Now, on this anniversary of that landmark decision, the United
States has some of the most restrictive policies on abortion in the developed
world. In contrast to Europe, the U.S. forbids the use of federal funds for
abortions, and the Supreme Court has upheld state laws that require parental
consent or notification, mandatory waiting periods and antiabortion counseling.
The court's 2007 decision on so-called partial-birth abortions was an
unprecedented infringement on physician autonomy.
Since Roe, U.S. public
opinion has been relatively stable and favorable to legal abortion. Early
efforts to overturn Roe failed miserably. Given this reality, the anti-choice
movement changed tactics. It no longer focused primarily on banning abortions
but concentrated on restricting the circumstances under which abortion would be
available. It succeeded in shifting public attention from broad support for
legal abortion to strong support for restricting access. Twenty years ago, being
pro-life was déclassé. Now it is a respectable point of view.
How did
this happen? Did the pro-choice movement fail? Or did those opposed to abortion
simply respond more effectively to the changing science as well as the social
shift from the rights rage of the '60s to the responsibility culture of the
'90s?
In the 1970s, the arguments were simple and polarized: Abortion
was either murder or a woman's right to control her body. The fetus, however,
stayed largely invisible. The pro-choice movement stayed on the message
offensive, tactically shifting in 1989 from women's bodies to the "who decides"
question posed by NARAL Pro-Choice America. But this was rapidly parried by the
anti-choice demand that we look at what was being decided, not just
who was deciding.
Science facilitated the swing of the pendulum.
Three-dimensional ultrasound images of babies in utero began to grace the family
fridge. Fetuses underwent surgery. More premature babies survived and were
healthier. They commanded our attention, and the question of what we owe them,
if anything, could not be dismissed.
These trends gave antiabortionists
an advantage, and they made the best of it. Now, we rarely hear them talk about
murdering babies. Instead, they present a sophisticated philosophical and
political challenge. Caring societies, they say, seek to expand inclusion into
"the human community." Those once excluded, such as women and minorities, are
now equal. Why not welcome the fetus (who, after all, is us) into our community?
Advocates of choice have had a hard time dealing with the increased
visibility of the fetus. The preferred strategy is still to ignore it and try to
shift the conversation back to women. At times, this makes us appear
insensitive, a bit too pragmatic in a world where the desire to live more
communitarian and "life-affirming" lives is palpable. To some people, pro-choice
values seem to have been unaffected by the desire to save the whales and the
trees, to respect animal life and to end violence at all levels. Pope John Paul
II got that, and coined the term "culture of life." President Bush adopted it,
and the slogan, as much as it pains us to admit it, moved some hearts and minds.
Supporting abortion is tough to fit into this package.
At the same time,
women and their decisions have come under ever more powerful microscopes. The
specter of women forced into back alleys as a result of a one-time "mistake" has
been replaced with hard questions about why women get pregnant when they don't
want to have babies.
In recent years, the antiabortion movement
successfully put the nitty-gritty details of abortion procedures on public
display, increasing the belief that abortion is serious business and that some
societal involvement is appropriate. Those who are pro-choice have not convinced
America that we support a public discussion of the moral dimensions of
abortion. Likewise, we haven't convinced people that we are
the ones actually doing things to make it possible for women to avoid needing
abortions.
Let's face it: Disapproval of
women's sexuality is a historical constant. So our claim that women can be
trusted still falls on deaf ears. And when the choice movement seems to defend
every individual abortion decision, rather than the right to make the decision,
it too becomes suspect.
If pro-choice values are to regain the moral high
ground, genuine discussion about these challenges needs to take place within the
movement. It is inadequate to try to message our way out of this problem.
Our vigorous defense of the right
to choose needs to be accompanied by greater openness regarding the real
conflict between life and choice, between rights and responsibility. It is time
for a serious reassessment of how to think about abortion in a world that is
radically changed from 1973.
Frances Kissling, a
fellow at the Radcliffe Institute for Advanced Study, is the former president of
Catholics for a Free Choice. Kate Michelman is the former president of NARAL
Pro-Choice America and the author of "Protecting the Right to
Choose."
http://www.latimes.com/news/opinion/la-oe-kissling22jan22,0,7688545.story?coll=la-tot-opinion&track=ntothtml