After the question of whether to decriminalise abortion or not had been simmering in the social and political background, last year was the moment when the issue ran hot and cold in the political realm, sometimes dominating the national conversation for weeks on end. Now that the controversial abortion legal amendment has been duly enacted into law, it is opportune to reflect serenely for a while on the whole concept.
Men have always had an uneasy place in the abortion debate. For the pro-choice side, pro-choice men are welcome allies, but they have a dubious right to speak on the issue. Men are also, by virtue of their gender, linked to the patriarchy that is taken to be the force behind our abortion bans and restrictions under the criminal code, a law that pro-choice activists see as both a push for male power over women and an illustration of male privilege.
On the pro-life side, many advocates are understandably concerned about giving the impression that their cause is all about men telling women what they can and cannot do with their bodies. That stereotype persists despite the presence of many prominent women in the pro-life movement.
The truth is far more complicated than pro-choice and pro-life clichés. Of course, the legality of abortion implicates women’s bodily autonomy. But this is not because of "the patriarchy". It is because women are the ones who get pregnant. The correct answer to "What if men could get pregnant?" is, "Then the word ‘men’ would mean what ‘women’ means now." Women’s reproductive biology—the fact that they conceive, gestate, and give birth—self-evidently limits their autonomy and freedom. This is especially true when the conception is unwanted, but even a wanted or planned pregnancy curtails the woman’s ability to engage in a wide range of activities. The impact of pregnancy and childbirth on women’s bodies has no parallel for men.
This does not mean, however, that most people who find abortion unacceptable are opposed to women’s liberty as such. There is a genuine belief that abortion destroys a human, not just a "potential" life, and that the value of life must be weighed against that of female bodily autonomy. Yet what if a pregnancy happened to a man? Would the abortion debate remain controversial or not? Just consider one aspect for a moment, namely that the treatment of paternity claims by our courts provides a counterpoint to the notion that our society treats male interests as sacrosanct. My point is that when it comes to the well-being of children, our courts and politicians have not been particularly deferential to male self-determination.
While pro-choice advocates often cast abortion as a matter of gender equality, allowing women, like men, to have sex with no physical consequences, I contend that if women in Malta one day have access to abortion, equal protection would require men to have a limited right to waive all paternal rights and obligations.
I also find misleading the justification for legalised abortion based on the rhetoric blaming abortion on men who exploit women. Equally misleading and totally fallacious is the other argument that should a national referendum be held on whether to decriminalise abortion or not in Malta, only women should be entitled to vote as the issue only affects their body, physical integrity, and well-being. Abortion is destined to remain illegal in Malta for now, but it is an undisputed fact that we are having women travel abroad to abort. From what I can gather, this is something a lot more complicated than empowered young women making choices with their own bodies.
I have been coming across real local episodes of boyfriends relentlessly pressuring girlfriends to abort children that they did not want to abort and of parents relentlessly pressuring daughters to abort when they did not want to abort. That is definitely not a celebration of autonomy, but an additional instrument of pressure and control. It is all the dire consequence of irresponsible men delightfully adhering to the idea of sex without responsibility. And when instant responsibility intrudes, whether it is through the failure of birth control or the refusal to use birth control, the option of abortion seriously comes into play. I know of quite a few people who longed for abortions in those circumstances, and it was a shattering experience for them not to be able to do so.
Obviously, everyone’s experience is personal. The experience of not being told about the pregnancy and only finding out about the abortion can be particularly difficult. Again, this does not mean that women are the villains in those stories. Some may have reasons to fear the man’s reaction, while others may be struggling with their own emotional confusion and trying to avoid wrenching conversations. While I profess to be a militant anti-abortionist, stories like these can easily become fodder for misogynistic narratives of women as vindictive baby killers. Yet the truth is that neither sex has a monopoly on bad or irresponsible behaviour.
Men’s relationship with pregnancy and childbearing should never be dismissed as entirely trivial and inconsequential, particularly in a culture like ours that seeks to encourage men to be as involved in parenting as women. How do we tell men to have an equal emotional investment in a child while also telling them that they should have no say, not just legally but morally, in what happens before birth?
There are many arguments for making the termination of pregnancy as rare as possible and prioritising its avoidance. There are even more arguments for banning abortion. Over and above all that, there are strong arguments for not losing sight of men’s fundamental humanity in the abortion debate, whether on the pro-life or pro-choice side.
Dr. Mark Said is a lawyer