Section:GDN 1J PaGe:10 Edition Date:190724 Edition:01 Zone: Sent at 23/7/2019 11:12 cYanmaGentaYellowbl
- The Guardian Wednesday 24 July 2019
10
I was stunned
to discover that
in Germany, strictly
speaking, abortions
are still not legal
Europe now
W
hen I was 30, in 2011, I had an
abortion. I was living in Berlin,
a city known, since the fall
of the wall, for championing
freedom. Or at least it was
until attention turned to my
womb. Born in France in the
1980s, and brought up on the
internet, the Erasmus European studies programme and
love without borders, I was under the happy illusion that
everything relating to women’s bodies – from abortion
to assisted reproduction – was covered by rights secured
after long, hard struggles.
I blithely assumed that the milestones on the road to
liberating French women – the May 1968 uprising , the
1971 “manifesto of the 343” signed by women admitting
to having had an abortion , Simone Veil , the health
minister who legalised abortion, and the fi rst test-tube
babies – were all suffi ciently European to be taken for
granted, whatever the language.
I was stunned to discover that ever since the Third
Reich, Germany has been very concerned about the fate
of its foetuses. Abortions, strictly speaking, are still not
legal. Under paragraph 219a of the penal code, abortion
is no longer a criminal off ence, but gynaecologists who
publish details of their methods may be prosecuted.
German courts treat any form of information on
abortion as “illegal publicity”.Fortunately no one assaulted me with knitting
needles, nor was I thrown into prison. But I was subjected
to a bureaucratic obstacle course. I was quizzed by
medics and social workers, then made to wait for a long
time ; I was issued with an offi cial permit, which was duly
rubber-stamped, and then made to wait again. Finally, I
was given the details of a “certifi ed” doctor.
The experience led to my rebirth as a feminist.
Somewhere along the way I began to wonder how – after
more than 60 years of European integration – legislation
on women’s bodies could be so diff erent from one
European Union member state to the next.
As a journalist I’d focused my work for many years on
women, from Warsaw to Nicosia, and their desire (or not)
to have children. Having a remarkable range of choices
and almost complete freedom seemed emblematic
of women of my generation. I had observed eastern
Europe’s absurd patchwork of reproductive rights and
the geographical manoeuvres it entailed. I’d talked
to women in Poland who had travelled to Germany to
abort, Germans over 40 going to Greece for one last try at
in vitro fertilisation , down-at-heel Ukrainians acting as
surrogate mothers for same-sex couples in the west, and
Czech donors selling their egg cells to their less fertile
sisters in France.
I had investigated abortion tourism , IVF trips and
huge legal discrepancies, rooted in religious or family
values. Poland, for instance, has a ban on abortion , but
is the most liberal country for assisted reproductive
technology: in the fi eld of frozen embryo implants
almost anything is possible, with state funding to boot.
In what is supposedly a union, I saw women subjected
to frontiers, national restrictions and increasingly
retrograde language. Did the passport-free Schengen
area not apply to our wombs? Despite having built a
single market, a single currency, shared institutions and
a common capital, Europe off ered no universal rule for
women’s bodies. Surely for gender equality to have any
real meaning it must start with that?
It has often crossed my mind that if men had to
abort, drive- thru clinics and morning-after-pill vending
machines would have sprung up all over our cities.
There would be legal provision for all comers, no one
forced to undergo abortion at sea in order to escape
national restrictions, no court battles. It would all be
above board and freely accessible, with the benefi t of
EU-wide health insurance. How can the EU’s 28 member
states agree on edible snails or shower heads, yet remain
silent on the reproductive rights of half the population
of the continent? Every year Europe issues hundreds of
directives and legislative packages, but I’ve never heard
of any plans to harmonise EU legislation on abortion.
Now that I have a little girl I dream of European
integration advancing in leaps and bounds, rather
than stumbling. I wish the EU would take risks and be a
pioneer for women’s rights. I refuse to applaud the fact
that the gender pay gap is “only” 16.2% , that parental
leave for both parents has been extended by 10 days, that
violence against women has been outlawed. Much more
is needed. Only societies that enjoy greater freedom
can make up for increasingly tame political ideals, for a
stagnant economy and for a historical miracle (the EU) in
danger of turning out to be a mirage.
If nation states can pool their currency or borders
then surely reproductive rights should be child’s play.
It’s time to deliver a women’s Europe, even if it requires
forceps. Christine Lagarde and Ursula von der Leyen, we
eagerly await your next move.This article was translated from the original French by
Harry ForsterAbortion rights
must be made
universal
across the EU
Prune
Antoine
Umut
Özkırımlı
There’s hope for
democracy in
Turkey – but it
still needs help
▲ A protester campaigns for the relaxation of Germany’s
abortion laws in January PHOTOGRAPH: HAYOUNG JEON/EPA
Prune Antoine
is a Berlin-based
French writer,
and co-founder
and editor-
in-chief of the
Sisters of Europe
websiteUmut Özkırımlı
is a political
scientist based at
Lund University,
currently on
leave at IBEI
and CIDOB,
BarcelonaHasina Shirzad
is an Afghan
refugee and
a university
student in
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