The current state of public discussion on abortion is typified by a newspaper photo out of Buffalo this past April. The photo shows two men standing in the middle of a crowd, nose to nose, mouths wide open, screaming at each other. They don't stand out in the crowd, because they're not unusual--everyone else is doing the same thing.
Most of us are familiar by now with the kind of closed-mindedness typified by those two: People on both sides of the issue have become so entrenched and so reactive in their opinions that rational discussion, compassionate dialogue, seems impossible.
The venom is not confined to public demonstrations; it crops up in living rooms and in churches around the country. When I travel to speak on nonviolence, people bring up lots of questions: What do you think about Eastern Europe? What tactic should we adopt here? What's the most loving (or nonviolent) way to cope with this situation? These are real questions, and we explore answers together, looking for solutions that will be the best we can do.
Such dialogue implies respect but not necessarily agreement: It implies that we have some common interests; it assumes that we take each other's words at face value. Dialogue of this type allows us to explore the implications of our own ideas and to change them in response to other people's perspectives. It requires that we be willing to test our own preconceptions.
No one, it seems, talks about abortion that way anymore. When the issue is raised at all, people say, "I don't know what you think about this, but I think...." The clear implication is there: If that's not what you think, I don't want to hear about it!
We seem to talk only to those who agree with us, and often we talk about the other side. Rarely do we talk with those on that other side to try to find out why they think as they do, or where we might share a common concern.
When I'm in a room with progressives from the Left, my stomach knots up as soon as abortion is mentioned: In the next breath will certainly come the phrase "Right-wing evangelical fascists." The same thing happens in more conservative groups, where a mention of abortion will evoke the promiscuous New-Age conspiracy. What happens to a person like me, caught between slogans?
I think there are a lot of people like me. I believe that abortion is almost always a moral wrong, and my reasons for arriving at that conclusion are feminist in nature as well as profoundly spiritual. I have mixed feelings about making any laws about abortion, either enshrining it as an inalienable right or forbidding it under any circumstances.
I think that people like me bring insight to the issue because we see and suffer with the questions on all sides: The answers are not as clear-cut as either side wants to believe. When those who occupy the middle ground are silenced, it becomes impossible to forge a workable compromise.
At this writing the Supreme Court has not yet rendered its decision on Planned Parenthood vs. Casey, but we can be sure that whatever decision they render, it will be inadequate and at best a compromise. It will also not end the argument, either legally or in the streets. One wonders what it all means to a person trying to live a gospel life, trying to experiment with nonviolence.
JESUS TOLD US to love our enemies and to forgive 70 times seven. Gandhi reminds us that everyone has a piece of the truth, and that we need to seek out the truth of our enemies and incorporate it into our thought--even Ellie Smeal's truth, even Randall Terry's truth. Is it possible for us to come together in search of common ground, in search of reconciliation, and to seek out a truth that is big enough for all of us?
A few hopeful stories filter through: a little group in California that meets across the abortion lines to talk about how to support women in crisis pregnancies; another group that communicates by computer and is able to dialogue on abortion issues in that forum. It can be done, but it's hard and frightening and unpopular.
One place to begin might be with folks like us, folks who don't like to be called names by either side, who are uncomfortable with all the slogans, who feel silenced by the yelling. Maybe we could come together and create a quiet space for ourselves to talk and be heard. Maybe out of that sharing we could invite our more vocal friends to join in, accepting some ground rules about mutual respect but allowing freedom of opinion. Maybe some new things could grow from such an effort.
The issue of abortion touches deep fears in each of us. It touches on our own existence, our right to live and to live as we choose. It touches on power: Who wields the power, and over whom? It touches on our very humanity: Who is a human being, when do we become human, and, especially, who makes that judgment?
People are not pig-headed and hostile over unimportant issues. The question of abortion really does address fundamental values, really does get us right in the gut. Deep feelings are aroused when we have to deal with disagreement over such deep issues. People like us, hungering for a world where we can all live in peace, need to remember that a peaceful world will be a world in which we can deal with just this kind of disagreement without going to war.
The scriptural question comes to mind: "How can we say we love our God whom we have not seen when we cannot love our brother or sister whom we have seen?" Seen today, right out there on the opposing picket line at the clinic.
Shelley Douglass was a Sojourners contributing editor and a nonviolent organizer in Birmingham, Alabama, when this article appeared.
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