The last time cabinet minister Maryam Monsef made the news, the occasion was her bungled handling of the Liberals’ short-lived plan to enact electoral reform. Now, Monsef has appeared in headlines across the country saying that denying someone access to the violence of abortion is itself violence. From Maclean’s:
Status of Women Minister Maryam Monsef says denying access to the full range of reproductive services — including abortion — is a form of violence against women.
“Reproductive health rights in Canada and around the world are critical to advancing gender equality and the empowerment of women and girls,” Monsef said Thursday in an interview with The Canadian Press.
It is common knowledge in the pro-life movement that the “pro-choice” media is, for the most part, “pro-abortion.” This is not an attempt to demonize their motives, but simply the only rational conclusion that observation can produce. Consistently, the media and their abortion industry allies portray legislation that would give women more information—informed consent, information concerning the baby’s development in the womb, ultrasounds—as “anti-choice,” when in in fact these policies simply allow women to make their irreversible, permanent decision with more facts. That those facts often prove persuasive in swaying women to choose for life is evidence that providing them with these facts is not only useful, but should be, if “pro-choice” meant anything at all, imperative.
Time and again, people tell pro-life activists that they dislike abortion victim photography because it is “graphic” and “disturbing,” and time and again, we respond that yes, it is—but that the real reason people want to cover up the reality of what is happening to pre-born children every day is that it makes them feel uncomfortable, and it makes them feel guilty. This is why pro-“choice” activists respond violently to all types of pro-life outreach, from sidewalk chalking to signs that simply read “Adoption: The Loving Option.” A culture that kills its children does not like to be reminded of this fact in any fashion.
As a rule, I’m happy when the folks over at Cosmopolitan are unhappy. And their post-Trump election headline was a pretty lovely one: “The Impact of this Election on Abortion Access will be Devastating.” The column was written by Robin Marty, who I’ve tangled with a few times on Twitter and is, in all fairness, one of the more reasonable members of the abortion cartel. But with the defeat of Hillary Clinton—a defeat that cost Planned Parenthood well over thirty million dollars in one swoop—Marty is not feeling very well:
With a wave of bloody skirmishes between social conservatives and the rest of the so-called conservative coalition happening in virtually every political party across Canada, pro-lifers have become increasingly disenchanted and increasingly convinced that there is nothing we can do. Years of fighting in the abortion wars have left many worn out, and many have ceded defeat. Questions crop up again and again: How do we keep going? Where do we find encouragement?
I have some advice that may strike many of you as strange: Don’t focus so much on politics.
If there’s one thing you can count on from the media, it’s that when a pseudo-celebrity says something stupid that celebrates abortion, it will be lauded from the deserts of the Huffington Post to the wastelands of Salon.com as one of the most brilliant, prescient, and also hilarious monologues ever uttered by a kind-of-famous alleged comedian. Just lately, it’s been Bill Nye the Science Guy, Trevor Noah—he’s the guy at the Daily Show in charge of creating waves of nostalgia for Jon Stewart—and now, Samantha Bee, who hosts a charming show called “Full Frontal.”
The reporter from the Sheridan College newspaper stopped me as we were making our way out the door. He gestured back at the hallway full of irate protestors with their armloads of fabric and hastily scrawled signs. “You guys know that some people are going to be angry when you come here,” he said, sticking a tape recorder in my face. “So why do you come back?”
The staff and volunteers at the Canadian Centre for Bio-Ethical Reform have been touring colleges across Ontario this fall doing pro-life outreach, and of course this has triggered much conversation on the concept of “safe spaces” by the students and staff who expect colleges to be free of discourse that they find uncomfortable. Today, we were engaging students and having interesting conversations when a clique of protestors with signs showed up and began to position themselves around us.
There’s been much debate recently concerning politicians who claim to be pro-life but yet promise, hand-on-heart, that they will not do anything about the abortion issue whatsoever should those ex-utero voters they are appealing to decide to propel them to power. I am not making sweeping accusations of hypocrisy here. Many of these politicians are actually sincere in their pro-life beliefs: They have voted for motions and legislation when the opportunities arose, they are willing (to some degree or another) to articulate their pro-life position, and they genuinely sympathize with the pro-life cause. But in spite of all of this, whenever they begin to tread the path towards power, they suddenly begin to assure everyone that they are only personally pro-life, but that they would never do anything so insane or unthinkable as to actually broach this issue politically.
There are moments in the lives of men and women that, in retrospect, shift the course of human history in ways too enormous and too wonderful to even imagine at the time. In those moments, often against their will, their hearts are set ablaze for something much bigger than themselves. One of those moments was in the year 1785, when a twenty-five-year old aspiring English clergyman named Thomas Clarkson decided to enter an essay competition. He chose the topic of the slave trade—not, as he said, because he had strong feelings on the matter, but for the purpose of “obtaining literary honour.”
It was near the turn of the century, after abolitionism had swept through Europe and seemingly conquered every defender of slavery, that a young shipping clerk named Edmund Dene Morel noticed something strange while going about his business at the harbor in Antwerp, Belgium. Ships were arriving filled to the brim with rubber—that was to be expected. But they were leaving again for the colony of Belgium’s King Leopold II not with goods to be used in payment, but with guns and ammunition. This was strange, Morel thought. The profits scraped out of the so-called free state of the Congo were gargantuan, but the only investment heading back towards the African continent was soldiers, guns, shackles, and bayonets. This could only mean one thing: regardless of the Belgian king’s flowery philanthropic descriptions of his African endeavors, Leopold must actually be running a slave state in the Congo.