By
Anne Fowler, Nicki
Nichols Gamble,
Frances X. Hogan,
Melissa Kogut, Madeline
McCommish, Barbara
Thorp
For
six years, leaders
on both sides of
the abortion debate
have met in secret
in an attempt to
better understand
each other. Now
they are ready to
share what they
have learned.
In the morning of
Dec. 30, 1994, John
Salvi walked into
the Planned Parenthood
clinic in Brookline
and opened fire
with a rifle. He
seriously wounded
three people and
killed the receptionist,
Shannon Lowney,
as she spoke on
the phone. He then
ran to his car and
drove two miles
down Beacon Street
to Preterm health
Services, where
he began shooting
again, injuring
two and killing
receptionist Lee
Ann Nichols.
WHO'S
DOING
THE TALKING
The
Rev.
Anne
Fowler
is rector
of St.
John's
Episcopal
Church
in Jamaica
Plain
and
a past
member
of both
the
board
of directors,
Planned
Parenthood
League
of Massachusetts,
and
the
board
of the
Religious
Coalition
for
Reproductive
Choice.
Nicki
Nichols
Gamble
served
as president
and
CEO
of the
Planned
Parenthood
League
of Massachusetts
from
1974
to 1999.
She
is a
director
of the
Center
for
Reproductive
Law
and
Policy
and
of IPAS,
an international
women's
reproductive
health
care
organization,
and
volunteers
for
the
Planned
Parenthood
Federation
of America.
Frances
X. Hogan,
a partner
at the
law
firm
of Lyne,
Woodworth
&
Evarts,
is president
of Women
Affirming
Life
and
consultant
to the
Pro-Life
Committee
of the
National
Conference
of Catholic
Bishops.
Melissa
Kogut
is executive
director
of Mass
NARAL,
state
affiliate
of the
National
Abortion
and
Reproductive
Rights
Action
League.
Madeline
McComish,
a chemist,
is past
president
of Massachusetts
Citizens
for
Life,
serves
on its
executive
board,
and
is chairman
of the
North
Suburban
Chapter
of Massachusetts
Citizens
for
Life.
Barbara
Thorp
has
been
director
of the
Pro-Life
Office
of the
Archdiocese
of Boston
since
1985
and
is on
the
executive
boards
of the
National
Office
of Post-Abortion
Reconciliation
and
Healing,
the
National
Committee
for
a Human
Life
Amendment,
and
Women
Affirming
Life.
WHERE
THEY STAND
PRO-LIFE The
pro-life
members
of the
group
describe
their
views
this
way:
We
believe
in one
universal
truth.
We three,
as Catholics,
believe
that
each
human
life
has
its
origin
in the
heart
of God.
This
divine
genesis
of the
human
person
calls
us to
protect
and
respect
every
human
life
from
the
moment
of conception
to natural
death.
The
truth
regarding
the
intrinsic
dignity
of the
human
person
can
also
be understood
through
reason
and
scientific
principles
of human
reproduction
and
genetics.
Indeed,
faith
and
reason
resonate,
both
affirming
the
inviolable
truth
that
every
human
life
is inherently
sacred.
Abortion
kills
the
most
vulnerable
member
of the
human
family:
the
unborn
child.
The
right
to be
born
is the
most
basic
of human
rights.
If it
is not
protected
then
all
other
rights
are
threatened.
We
understand,
all
too
well,
the
often
desperate
and
overwhelming
circumstances
that
some
pregnant
women
face.
We remain
committed
to creating
an environment
in which
no pregnant
woman
feels
that
she
must
choose
between
her
own
well-being
and
the
life
of her
child.
It is
an utter
failure
of love
and
community
for
a pregnant
woman
to feel
that
abortion
is her
only
choice.
PRO-CHOICE The
prochoice
members
of the
group
describe
their
views
this
way:
We
recognize
no single,
universal
truth
that
determines
our
moral
decisions.
On the
contrary,
we must
consider
a broad
range
of values
whenever
we seek
to make
wise,
ethical,
and
compassionate
choices.
We respect
a woman's
moral
capacity
to make
decisions
regarding
her
health
and
welfare,
including
reproductive
decisions.
A
woman's
choices
reflect
how
she
weighs
her
various
life
circumstances:
her
important
relationships,
her
economic,
social,
and
emotional
resources
and
obligations,
her
health,
her
religious
or philosophical
beliefs,
and
the
well-being
of others
for
whom
she
has
responsibility.
We
live
out
our
destinies
in a
world
of vast
and
profound
complexity,
where
claims
upon
our
compassion
and
our
judgment
compete
and
often
conflict.
A woman
respects
the
preciousness
of human
life
by acknowledging
and
honoring
the
intricate
tapestry
of her
relationships
and
commitments;
indeed,
we believe
that
the
complexity
of human
life
can
be a
source
of moral
wisdom
and
courage.
Salvi's
20-minute rampage
shocked the nation.
Prochoice advocates
were grief-stricken,
angry, and terrified.
Prolife proponents
were appalled as
well as concerned
that their cause
would be connected
with this horrifying
act. Governor William
F. Weld and Cardinal
Bernard Law, among
others, called for
talks between prochoice
and prolife leaders.
We
are six leaders,
three prochoice
and three prolife,
who answered this
call. For nearly
5 1/2 years, we
have met together
privately for more
than 150 hours -
an experience that
has astonished us.
Now, six years after
the shootings in
Brookline, and on
the 28th anniversary
of the US Supreme
Court's landmark
Roe v. Wade decision,
we publicly disclose
our meetings for
the first time.
How
did the six of us,
activists from two
embattled camps,
ever find our way
to the same table?
In
the months following
the shootings, the
Public Conversations
Project, a Boston-based
national group that
designs and conducts
dialogues about
divisive public
issues, consulted
many community leaders
about the value
of top-level talks
about abortion.
Encouraged
by these conversations,
the project in July
1995 invited the
six of us to meet
together four times.
The meetings would
be confidential
and we would attend
as individuals,
not as representatives
of our organizations.
Our
talks would not
aim for common ground
or compromise. Instead,
the goals of our
conversations would
be to communicate
openly with our
opponents, away
from the polarizing
spotlight of media
coverage; to build
relationships of
mutual respect and
understanding; to
help deescalate
the rhetoric of
the abortion controversy;
and, of course,
to reduce the risk
of future shootings.
Still
shaken by the murderous
attacks in Brookline,
we each agreed to
participate.
As
we approached the
first meeting, we
all were apprehensive.
Before
the meeting, the
prolife participants
prayed together
in a booth at a
nearby Friendly's.
Frances X. Hogan,
a lawyer and president
of Women Affirming
Life and executive
vice president of
Massachusetts Citizens
for Life, worried
that a dialogue
with prochoice leaders
might generate ''a
scandal if people
thought I was treating
abortion merely
as a matter of opinion
on which reasonable
people could differ.''
Madeline
McComish, a chemist
and president of
Massachusetts Citizens
for Life, had a
''gut fear of sitting
with people who
were directly involved
with taking life.''
Barbara
Thorp was ''deeply
anguished over the
murders at the clinics.''
She feared that
''if lines of direct
communication between
prolife and prochoice
leaders were not
opened, polarization
would only deepen.''
Despite misgivings,
Thorp, a social
worker and director
of the ProLife Office
of the Archdiocese
of Boston, was ''anxious
to meet the other
side.''
The
prochoice participants
were also skeptical
and concerned. As
president and CEO
of the Planned Parenthood
League of Massachusetts,
Nicki Nichols Gamble
was directly affected
by the shootings.
Although she felt
that dialogue might
help, she ''wondered
if the talks would
divert my energies
from coordinating
my organization's
response to the
shootings and from
assisting in the
healing of my employees
and their families.''
Melissa
Kogut, newly appointed
executive director
of Mass NARAL, the
state affiliate
of the National
Abortion Rights
Action League, wondered
how she would ''justify
to my board and
colleagues spending
time on something
that arguably could
be futile.''
The
Rev. Anne Fowler,
rector of St. John's
Episcopal Church
in Jamaica Plain,
believed that her
perspective as a
Christian leader
who is prochoice
would be essential,
but worried that
her viewpoint might
not be respected
by either side.
''However, as a
priest, peacemaker,
and activist, I
had to accept this
invitation.''
The
two facilitators
who would moderate
all the meetings
were also anxious.
Laura Chasin, director
of the Public Conversations
Project, ''was afraid
that talks might
do more harm than
good.'' Susan Podziba,
an independent public
policy mediator
from Brookline,
recalls, ''The threat
of violence was
palpable. What if
the wrong person
found out about
the dialogue?''
The
first meeting took
place at the project's
office in Watertown
on Sept. 5, 1995,
a sweltering Tuesday
evening. ''I had
wanted to wear my
clerical collar,
but it was too hot,''
recalls Fowler.
That
first discussion
was grueling. We
could not agree
on what to call
each other. All
but one of us were
willing to use each
side's preferred
designation, in
virtual or actual
quotation marks:
''prolife'' and
''prochoice.''
Our
first of many clashes
over language, this
disagreement remains
unresolved. To this
day, Gamble still
cannot call the
other side prolife
because ''I believe
my cause is also
prolife,'' she says.
This stand frustrates
Thorp and her colleagues.
''I have tolerated
Nicki's refusal
to call us prolife
but, frankly, it
angers me. I wasn't
eager to call Nicki's
side prochoice,
but I did it because
it seemed to be
necessary for showing
respect and for
moving the conversation
forward,'' Thorp
says.
Kogut
questioned her own
willingness to agree
to these terms,
''but I came to
two conclusions,''
Kogut says. ''To
proceed with a civil
dialogue, we needed
to call each other
what we each wanted
to be called. Second,
over time, I began
to see `prolife'
as descriptive of
the others' beliefs
- that life itself,
more important than
the quality of life,
was their preeminent
value.''
We
also struggled over
how to refer to
what grows and develops
in a pregnant woman's
womb. The prochoice
women found ''unborn
baby'' unacceptable
and the prolife
women would not
agree to ''fetus.''
For the sake of
proceeding, we all
assented, uneasily,
to the term ''human
fetus.''
These
opening exchanges
brought us to the
heart of our differences.
Nerves frayed. The
chasm between us
seemed huge.
To
help us listen and
speak across this
divide, ground rules
were critical. We
would seek to use
terms acceptable
(or at least tolerable)
to all participants.
We would not interrupt,
grandstand, or make
personal attacks.
We would speak for
ourselves, not as
representatives
of organizations.
Most important,
the meetings would
be completely confidential
unless all of us
could agree upon
a way to go public.
We
also made a commitment
that some of us
still find agonizingly
difficult: to shift
our focus away from
arguing for our
cause. This agreement
was designed to
prevent rancorous
debates.
And
indeed, we believe
this ground rule
has been essential
to the long life
of our dialogue.
Knowing that our
ideas would be challenged,
but not attacked,
we have been able
to listen openly
and speak candidly.
But
it has not been
easy.
''From
the beginning, I
have felt an enormous
tension, Hogan says,
''between honoring
the agreement to
not argue for our
position and my
deep hope - which
I still feel - that
these women for
whom I have such
great respect will
change their minds
about abortion.''
Our
ground rules also
required us to refrain
from polarizing
rhetoric. In one
early session, we
generated a list
of ''hot buttons''
- words and phrases
that make it almost
impossible for some
of us to think clearly,
listen carefully,
or respond constructively.
Prochoice
members are inflamed
when called ''murderers''
or when abortions
are likened to the
Holocaust or to
''genocide.'' Prolife
participants are
incensed by dehumanizing
phrases such as
''products of conception''
and ''termination
of pregnancy'' that
obscure their belief
that abortion is
killing.
We
also discussed stereotypes
we thought were
applied to us by
people ''on the
other side.''
Prolife
participants feel
maligned when characterized
as religious fanatics
taking orders from
men, or as uneducated,
prudish individuals,
indifferent to women
in crisis and to
children after they
are born. Prochoice
members are offended
by labels such as
anti-child, anti-men,
anti-family, elitist,
frivolous, self-centered,
and immoral.
Despite
the strains of these
early meetings,
we grew closer to
each other. At one
session, each of
us told the group
why she had devoted
so much of her time,
energy, and talents
to the abortion
issue. These accounts
- all deeply personal
- enlightened and
moved us.
After
the fourth meeting,
we agreed to extend
our sessions through
the one-year anniversary
of the shootings
- an occasion, we
feared, when tensions
over abortion might
ignite in Boston.
On
the evening of Dec.
30, 1995, about
700 people gathered
at Temple Ohabei
Shalom in Brookline
to honor the memory
of Lowney and Nichols.
All our prochoice
participants attended
the service. Fowler
and Gamble officiated.
In the solemn crowd
were Podziba, one
of our facilitators,
and two of our prolife
members, Hogan and
Thorp, accompanied
by David Thorp,
her husband.
''Seeing
the other members
of the group walk
in was one of the
most meaningful
moments of the service
for me,'' Fowler
recalls.
In
her remarks, Gamble
expressed gratitude
''for the prayers
of those who agree
with us and the
prayers of those
who disagree.''
Fowler,
in her sermon, reminded
us of the ''God
who calls out to
all who love peace.''
She drew from the
words of the Hebrew
prophet Isaiah,
saying ''and new
things have sprung
forth in the year
since Lee Ann's
and Shannon's deaths.
Much has been transformed,
and much will be.''
Indeed,
to those of us involved
in the confidential
dialogues, much
had been transformed.
By the time of this
sad anniversary,
each one of us had
come to think differently
about those ''on
the other side.''
While
we struggled over
profound issues,
we also kept track
of personal events
in one another's
lives, celebrating
good times and sharing
sorrows. As our
mutual understanding
increased, our respect
and affection for
one another grew.
This increased understanding
affected how we
spoke as leaders
of our respective
movements. The news
media, unaware that
we were meeting,
began noting differences
in our public statements.
In
an article after
the first-year anniversary
of the shootings,
Globe reporter Don
Aucoin wrote, ''Has
the past year brought
the lowering of
voices ... called
for by Cardinal
Law, Governor William
Weld and others?
The answer seems
to be a qualified
yes, at least among
some activists.''
The
article quoted Gamble
as saying, ''There
are numbers of people
on both sides of
this question who
have tried to be
thoughtful about
the rhetoric they
use.'' Gamble added
that she was hearing
fewer uses of such
labels as ''baby-killer,
murderer, Nazi.''
In
the same article,
Hogan is quoted
as saying she uses
''prochoice because
that is what they
want to be called.
I have a basic respect
for the person,
even though I don't
agree with or respect
the position.''
Thorp,
too, was quoted.
''This call for
a lowering of voices
sent a signal that
we really needed
to listen to each
other with care
and respect. I'm
more mindful now
than I've ever been
of speaking in love,
speaking in peace,
and speaking in
respect to anyone,
no matter how wide
the differences
are.''
In
a National Public
Radio interview
about the anniversary,
Hogan explained
that while she believed
that abortion is
killing, she did
not call it murder.
Hogan also said,
''Toning down the
rhetoric is critical.
It's not just better
manners, but it
turns out it's also
better politics.
... We reach people
we may never otherwise
have reached with
the message.''
Kogut
felt and acted differently
when she appeared
with prolife spokespeople
on news shows and
at speaking engagements.
Kogut recalls, ''I
was struck by the
media's desire for
conflict. One host
of a radio talk
show actually encouraged
me to attack my
opponent personally.''
In
early 1996, we continued
to meet, anticipating
that the upcoming
Salvi trial would
present new challenges
to protect activists
and the public from
danger.
At
one point, prolife
advocates acted
to keep proponents
of violence away
from Massachusetts.
In February 1996,
the Rev. Donald
Spitz, head of ProLife
Virginia, made it
known that he was
planning to come
to Boston to show
support for what
he had called, according
to the Globe, Salvi's
''righteous deed.''
McComish
wrote a letter to
Spitz, signed also
by Hogan and Thorp.
''Your public statements
on the acceptability
of violence ...
are counter to everything
that the prolife
movement represents,''
McComish wrote.
''At this very difficult
time, you are not
welcome in Massachusetts.''
Spitz
and several of his
allies objected
to McComish's charge.
They suggested that
she was betraying
the cause. But he
did not come.
A
growing trust opened
a ''hot line'' channel
of reliable communication
between us. The
prolife leaders
alerted Gamble when
there was a possibility
of imminent physical
danger. ''It lowered
my anxiety - and
moved me deeply
- to know that there
were people on the
other side who were
concerned about
my safety,'' Gamble
says.
Throughout
these 5 1/2 years,
though external
events claimed much
of our attention,
we managed to explore
many aspects of
the abortion controversy,
such as when life
begins, the rights
of women, the rights
of the unborn, why
women get abortions,
and the aftermath
of abortion.
We
spent especially
tense hours discussing
the issue that prochoice
members describe
as ''bans on certain
abortion procedures''
and that prolife
participants call
''partial-birth
abortions.'' We
also probed a host
of other complex
and challenging
subjects: feminism,
sex education, euthanasia,
suicide, the death
penalty, the role
of law in society,
and individual responsibility.
When
addressing divisive
topics, we expected
to disagree. But
at times, conflicts
caught us by surprise
- flaring when one
side unwittingly
used certain words
in a way that struck
the other as presumptuous
or offensive.
One
provocative word
has been ''violence.''
While the prochoice
leaders use it to
refer to shootings
and other attacks
on clinics, doctors,
and staff, the prolife
activists believe
that abortion also
is a violent act.
In
writing this article,
we came to an impasse
when one side mentioned
the Declaration
of Independence.
The prolife participants
wished to cite the
Declaration as a
presentation of
their core belief
that the right to
life is inalienable
and self-evident.
The prochoice members
passionately objected
to what they saw
as an appropriation
of a document that
they also cherish.
To them, the Declaration
affirms every person's
right to life and
liberty.
In
these and all of
our discussions
of differences,
we strained to reach
those on the other
side who could not
accept - or at times
comprehend - our
beliefs. We challenged
each other to dig
deeply, defining
exactly what we
believe, why we
believe it, and
what we still do
not understand.
These
conversations revealed
a deep divide. We
saw that our differences
on abortion reflect
two world views
that are irreconcilable.
If
this is true, then
why do we continue
to meet?
First,
because when we
face our opponent,
we see her dignity
and goodness. Embracing
this apparent contradiction
stretches us spiritually.
We've experienced
something radical
and life-altering
that we describe
in nonpolitical
terms: ''the mystery
of love,'' ''holy
ground,'' or simply,
''mysterious.''
We
continue because
we are stretched
intellectually,
as well. This has
been a rare opportunity
to engage in sustained,
candid conversations
about serious moral
disagreements. It
has made our thinking
sharper and our
language more precise.
We
hope, too, that
we have become wiser
and more effective
leaders. We are
more knowledgeable
about our political
opponents. We have
learned to avoid
being overreactive
and disparaging
to the other side
and to focus instead
on affirming our
respective causes.
Since
that first fear-filled
meeting, we have
experienced a paradox.
While learning to
treat each other
with dignity and
respect, we all
have become firmer
in our views about
abortion.
We
hope this account
of our experience
will encourage people
everywhere to consider
engaging in dialogues
about abortion and
other protracted
disputes. In this
world of polarizing
conflicts, we have
glimpsed a new possibility:
a way in which people
can disagree frankly
and passionately,
become clearer in
heart and mind about
their activism,
and, at the same
time, contribute
to a more civil
and compassionate
society.
Editor's
note: Although the
Globe's stylebook
does not allow the
use of ''prochoice''
and ''prolife''
(preferring instead
such terms as ''abortion
rights advocates''
or ''abortion foes'',
an exception was
made in this article
to better reflect
the views of the
authors.)
Clockwise
from left: Barbara
Thorp, Melissa
Kogut, Madeline
McComish, Nicki
Nichols Gamble,
Frances X. Hogan,
The Rev. Anne
Fowler, Susan
Podziba, Laura
Chasin.