THERE is an argument you don't often hear, one made
occasionally by those on the fringes of the pro-choice movement, which
suggests that legislation relating to reproduction, and more
specifically to abortion, should be decided by women alone.
The minority who advance this viewpoint suggest that key
decisions on the topic should be limited to the female half of the
population – because, they argue, it is women's lives who are chiefly
affected by their outcome.
If we followed this logic, only the women of Ireland would vote in any future abortion referendums, and only female TDs and senators would have any say on the current Protection of Life During Pregnancy Bill.
This argument is only rarely made, for the obvious reason that even staunch female pro-choice advocates are reluctant to colonise the decision-making process on a gender basis alone.
After all, at the heart of feminism lies a search for equality and a desire to see both men and women share equally in child-rearing duties. So it would be counter-productive to exclude half the population from decisions regarding the very start of human life.
And yet, as the political debate surrounding the Government's abortion bill heated up and a string of male politicians queued up to patronise, offend and outrage the female population, the 'let women decide' argument started to look very attractive indeed.
First into the fray were the representatives of that most misogynistic of institutions: the Catholic Church.
Inevitably, the bishops were opposed to the bill, and vowed to challenge its constitutionality.
Instead of allowing for termination in the case of the risk to life from suicide, the bishops called for more support and more love for women enduring crisis pregnancies.
Which is difficult to argue with, except when you look at how the church has treated women in the past. Was it the kind of support offered in the Magdalene laundries they had in mind, or something better?
And furthermore, when you remember that the church has such a dim view of women that it still, in 2013, won't contemplate women priests, why should we believe their assurances that they have our best interests at heart?
We then had to sit through the seemingly never-ending pronouncements of Peter Mathews, the now former Fine Gael TD who, during the course of a heated television debate on the risk to life of the mother during pregnancy, glibly pointed out that "we're all going to end up dead anyway".
Mathews
apologised, then quickly remounted his high horse and treated us to a
rambling speech during the crucial late-night Dail debate that
incorporated waffling references to his father's heart surgery, a
post-rugby match pow-wow with a former Supreme Court judge, and a final,
magnanimous, recommendation for dealing with women in crisis
pregnancies: "Gather them up, give them money," he said, as across the
nation, women's jaws dropped in disbelief.
So far, so ham-fisted.
But it would get worse.
When the bill arrived in the Seanad, Fianna Fail senator Jim Walsh
offered us a graphic explanation of a late-term abortion, complete with
descriptions of a baby's legs being taken out, having a scissors jammed
into its skull and a tube inserted to suck out its brains.
Ivana
Bacik walked out; senator Marie Maloney, visibly upset and recalling
her own devastating miscarriage, pleaded for him to stop.
But
Mr Walsh was unapologetic. We must face the reality of abortion, he
insisted, despite the fact that his own relationship with reality
appeared somewhat cloudy: James Reilly
was quick to point out that the procedures he described are not in
practice here, nor will they be when the legislation is passed.
Gruesome
descriptions were not enough for Walsh's party colleague, Senator Brian
O Domhnaill. Opposing an amendment to the bill which proposed that
abortion be permitted in the case of fatal foetal abnormalities, the
senator said we would be "depriving future Special Olympics athletes of
being born".
If Mr O Domhnaill has yet to learn the meaning of the word fatal, then the sooner the Seanad is closed down, the better.
When
it was all over, back in the real world, the rage among women who had
hitherto viewed the debate with a degree of distance was palpable.
It was not the pro-life message delivered by these men that enraged us – Lucinda Creighton,
the most high-profile of the bill objectors, won nothing but praise for
her logical, dignified contributions to the debate.
No, it was the
meandering, hysterical manner in which they delivered it.
The
cumulative effect of these contributions was to leave women wondering
if men could ever fully understand the implications of a crisis
pregnancy for a woman's mental and physical health.
We
tried in vain to imagine ourselves pontificating so definitively, so
decisively, so confidently, on any issue of men's health, and we simply
couldn't.
And if we found the patronising hard to take,
how horrible must it have been for pregnant women who'd just found out
their baby wouldn't survive outside the womb and were faced with the
prospect of booking a plane ticket?
Or the women – and
girls – carrying a child as a result of rape or incest or abuse? Or the
women whose long-term health is compromised by a pregnancy?
Here's
some reality for Senator Walsh. Much as we women might wish it to be
otherwise, the reality is that men do not have to endure nine months of
pregnancy, and then go through childbirth.
They do not
share equally in childrearing duties, and they are far more likely to
leave the family home. Twenty per cent of Irish families are headed by
single mums. Single fathers account for just 2pc.
The
reality is that the responsibility for children is still mainly our job.
And because that's true, then it's also a reality that decisions taken
in the first weeks of life are really our job too.
Justice
Minister Alan Shatter has now suggested that we have a referendum on
abortion for rape victims.
This debate is far from over.
Maybe it's high
time we left the men out of it?