I have always considered myself pro-life. It’s not something I’ve felt a need to wear as a badge of honour, rather it has always been a default position. But terminology matters. Indeed, frequently, calling myself pro-life has drawn the derision or raised eyebrows of people around me, nuns and priests and radical ratbags alike, it has connotations.

Last week when the United States Supreme Court’s intention to overturn the 1973 pro-choice decision Roe v. Wade was leaked to the media, the socials went crazy. All of people’s closely-guarded opinions emerged in tweets and posts which ranged from thoughtful to vitriolic.
I shared a meme or two and then instantly felt my stomach lurch when I saw that the comments were getting fiercely divisive. When I saw the three dots indicating someone known for their extreme views was about to make a comment, I retreated and deleted my post. The following day I read an article by Simcha Fisher in America magazine who had written a piece called ‘I’ve wanted Roe v Wade turned over my entire life: So why don’t I feel better now?’
Fisher shared her long journey of having parents who took her and her siblings to pro-life rallies and prayed for victims of abortion, and she made no secret about the awkwardness of taking such positions. But she sums up her discomfort: ‘it is one thing to know that people think pro-lifers are dorky and uncool and to decide that you can live with that. It is quite another to know that people think pro-lifers are anti-woman and anti-immigrant and anti-poor people — and the reason they think so is because the most public faces of the pro-life party cannot seem to stop saying so.’
In my early career I worked for the staunchly pro-life politician Senator Brian Harradine who was one of the best embodiments I’ve ever seen of someone applying their Catholic faith to their political life. He did not always get it right, but for almost 30 years, he made sure that he considered each issue in the light of the common good.
'The pro-life message has the potential to be one of beauty, the sanctity of life, the protection of the innocent. We cannot therefore limit it to single-issue politics, but rather, guard it and reimagine it in such a way that we truly defend all people.'
One of Harradine’s most famous deals was his attempt to protect human life by banning the abortion pill RU486’s entry into Australia, at the cost of the partial sale of Telstra. This was highly controversial and drew the ire of many. People thought he was either mad or delusional. He was simply trying to protect the vulnerable.
One of the difficulties of being associated politically of course means we get pigeonholed, and or, make deals or conscience votes in our own lives. For me, I always had a sense that being pro-life was about recognising that every human being has value, dignity and is a unique and unrepeatable gift.
Like many others, I have always grappled deeply with the ‘guilty by association’ feeling I get when I look at the pro-life movement. I have lived with people whose association with a pro-life organisation led them to pray the rosary each week outside Melbourne abortion clinic, while other members of the same household chose to live out their faith commitment on a committee for resettling refugees and delivering soup at inner-city boarding houses.
Of course, this idea of being in favour of all life issues is not a new argument. Joseph Cardinal Bernardin of Chicago defended the ‘seamless garment’ argument, also known as the consistent ethic of life approach in the 1980s, arguing that while some may be more passionate about particular life issues than others, all should be given equal weight. He said: ‘a consistent ethic does not say that everyone in the Church must do all things, but it does say that as individuals and groups pursue one issue, whether it is opposing abortion or capital punishment, the way we oppose one threat should be related to support for a systemic vision of life … it is necessary for the church as a whole to cultivate a conscious explicit connection among the several issues.’
Some 30 years later, Pope Francis echoed this in Gaudete et Exsultate (rejoice and be glad) an Apostolic Exhortation on the call to holiness. He wrote: ‘Our defence of the innocent unborn for example, needs to be clear, firm and passionate, for at stake is the dignity of a human life which is always sacred … equally sacred however, are the lives of the poor, those already born, the destitute, the abandoned and the underprivileged, the vulnerable infirm and elderly exposed to covert euthanasia, the victims of human trafficking, new forms of slavery and every form of rejection.’ (Pope Francis, Gaudete et Exsultate #101)
Benedictine Sister Joan Chittister (who is currently travelling in Australia) in an interview in 2004 argued in a similar vein. ‘I do not believe that just because you are opposed to abortion, that that makes you pro-life. In fact, I think in many cases, your morality is deeply lacking if all you want is a child born but not a child fed, a child educated, a child housed. And why would I think that you don't? Because you don't want any tax money to go there. That's not pro-life. That's pro-birth. We need a much broader conversation on what the morality of pro-life is.’
So, what does it mean to be consistently pro-life and why does America’s overturning of Roe v. Wade matter for Australians as we go to an election? It matters, because, as the Australian Catholic Bishops Conference said in their pre-election statement: ‘no political party perfectly embodies Catholic Social Teaching’, and with so many Christian politicians who wear their faith on their sleeves, this is a problem.
Roe v. Wade being overturned will almost certainly mean a return to clandestine, backyard abortions in the US and Australian politics, while milder in nature, has a tendency to follow suit. A 2014 documentary called A Quiet Inquisition lays out the consequences of such laws in stark and devastating clarity as it depicts the deep struggle of obstetrician and gynaecologist Dr Carla Cerrato in Nicaragua.
In this film, this dedicated doctor faces a daily choice between following a law that bans all abortions and endangers her patients, or taking the risk to provide life-saving care to female patients with pregnancy complications. Cerrato is, as most Nicaraguans are, from a Catholic background, but also sees the results of an extreme law that means even those who miscarry could be punished by law.
Up until now, I have yet to meet or witness a person in politics who consistently applies and understands how important the seamless garment approach is, despite its clear and obvious strengths.
Our approach in this country to refugees and asylum seekers for example, particularly those who come from Muslim-majority countries has been woefully inadequate, and has often been defended to the hilt by right-wing Christian politicians. Similarly, our approach to issues such as climate, poverty, natural disasters and indigenous Australians is hardly what one could consider pro-life, or even recognisant of basis human dignity.
The pro-life message has the potential to be one of beauty, the sanctity of life, the protection of the innocent. We cannot therefore limit it to single-issue politics, but rather, guard it and reimagine it in such a way that we truly defend all people, from womb to tomb and everything in between.
Beth Doherty is Diocesan Director for Caritas Australia in the Archdiocese of Canberra and Goulburn and author of the 2020 book All the beautiful things: finding truth, beauty and goodness in a fractured church.
Main image: Refugees walk along a railway line after they have crossed the border from Serbia into Hungary close to the village of Roszke near Szeged, Hungary. (Matt Cardy / Getty Images)