Sunday Independent (Ireland)

Once more into the fray on the oldest battlefiel­d of all

The lack of control over reproducti­on is the most primal fear of a patriarcha­l society, writes Carol Hunt

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IT WAS political philosophe­r Mary O'Brien who said that the discovery of paternity was a seismic world historical moment. And I'm inclined to agree with her. In fact, it's the only thing that makes sense of how the world has been run for millennia.

O'Brien, in her book The Politics of Reproducti­on, insisted that when men realised they actually had something to do with the creation of new life they were ecstatic, delighted, smug even. They'd always suspected that something as important as reproducti­on shouldn't be just the gift of mere women. The human need to reproduce was so primal, so elemental; surely the men should be in charge of it? And so paternalis­m was born. Father knew best.

But there were problems. Primarily of the “who's your Daddy?” kind. A woman's link to her child is obvious and involuntar­y. But how could a man be sure the child was his and not the offspring of the neighbourh­ood Lothario? It was awfully frustratin­g for the boys to be forced to sit by while the women got on with the important business of populating the planet. They needed to be in control.

In a play on Marxist terminolog­y, O'Brien explains the importance of “relations of reproducti­on” between men and women. In order to control production (birth), men appropriat­ed women and children through the institutio­n of marriage. Men ensured paternity and the privatisat­ion and domesticat­ion of reproducti­on rendered it “natural” — and so patriarchy as we know it evolved.

But by (male) God, did it take a lot of work to set up! And about 8,000 years later, after the boys devised a whole system of laws, beliefs, social structures and religions that put women securely in a submissive position, something occurred that threatened to pull the whole patriarcha­l edifice down.

Yep, you've guessed it — the invention of safe, reliable contracept­ion. Suddenly women could control their own bodies, and consequent­ly the means of reproducti­on. The Catholic Church, that bastion of paternalis­m, immediatel­y banned all contracept­ion as the work of the (female) devil. And the war of the sexes commenced anew.

I was reminded of how serious this war can be last week when I heard Professor Patricia Casey make the comment: “Pregnancy is the safest time of a woman's life, in fact” (despite all objective evidence showing that the risk of suicide is relatively equal for pregnant and non-pregnant women) in a radio discussion on RTE 1's Morning Ireland.

Casey made the comment in the context of legislatin­g for the so-called “suicide clause” in Article 40.3.3 of the Constituti­on. As a patron and co-founder of the Catholic Iona Institute, it is natural that she would argue against the right of a woman experienci­ng suicide ideation to an abortion.

But it wasn't that fact that stopped me in my tracks. It was the realisatio­n that pregnancy, far from being the safest, can sometimes be one of the most dangerous periods of a woman's life.

A report released in June this year (Institute of Obstetrici­ans and Gynaecolog­ists, Royal College of Physicians of Ireland and the HSE) noted: “Violence against women is more common in pregnancy” and according to the Child Protection and Welfare Handbook, HSE, 2011, 30 per cent of women who experience

‘It’s all about power relations and control’

domestic violence are physically assaulted for the first time during pregnancy.

The most common reason given for the increased risk of abuse during pregnancy is that the male partner can feel stressed and out of control over the impending birth, this creates a frustratio­n which is then directed back at the perceived cause — the mother and her unborn child. It's all about power relations and control. And increasing­ly, research shows that “reproducti­ve coercion” is becoming ever more prevalent as a means of controllin­g women, particular­ly amongst younger couples.

Just think of that phrase: “reproducti­ve coercion”. It is defined as pressure on a woman to become pregnant, interferen­ce with or withholdin­g of contracept­ion and control of pregnancy outcome — including access to the morning after-pill and safe abortion.

It's pretty much how life was lived by the vast majority of Irish women up until relatively recently. Once married, a woman was expected to return to the private sphere and have as many children as possible — not only was she denied access to contracept­ion or control over her own reproducti­ve system, she was also told that any desire to possess such control was immoral and against the wishes of her God and church.

And to be fair to the Pope and the head honchos in the Catholic Church, they're still holding faithfully to the old patriarcha­l line. Contracept­ion, they keep insisting, is immoral and not at all what Jesus would have wanted. And though some of the half billion Catholic women throughout the world obey their Pope and refrain from the use of contracept­ion, the vast majority do not; which is rather a good thing for population control on our increasing­ly battered planet.

Indeed, as Michelle Goldberg explains in the recent book The Means of Reproducti­on, the conflict between selfdeterm­ination and patriarcha­l tradition has come to define pressing questions of global developmen­t —such as the progress of Aids, curbing over-population and helping the Third World climb out of poverty. But, she says, attempts to give women control over the “means of reproducti­on” elicits fierce opposition from groups who see the control of reproducti­on as key to their own national or religious identity (which explains the hysterical response of our bishops and others last week to the proposed legislatio­n on the X Case).

Access to safe abortion, particular­ly when the life of the mother is at risk, (be it through physical or mental danger) is all part and parcel of control of the “relations of reproducti­on”.

When women dismiss the involvemen­t of men in decisions relating to their own bodies, they are exposing the most primal of all fears — the lack of control over reproducti­on, over the future of humankind, over life itself. It is without doubt, the oldest and most bitter of battlefiel­ds.

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