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Pro-life, pro-choice: can we talk
by Frederica Mathewes-Green RAIN WASHED DOWN the streets of the American University campus in Washington, D.C. Students dashed from building to building under cover of umbrellas, ponchos or soggy newspapers. In a room several stories above the streets a point of calm was developing in the midst of another storm, a storm that has been raging for 20 years. A handful of pro-life and pro-choice partisans were talking and listening to each other. The mood was subdued and reflective, in tune with the pattering rain. In this intimate setting, people were saying things that they never imagined saying before, especially not in the presence of the "enemy." In one small group, an aggressive pro-choice lawyer was talking passionately about the protection of abused children. She spoke about children's helplessness before their adult attackers. "They're so small and vulnerable, and they have no one to defend them." A pro-lifer in the group said softly, "You know, that's the reason a lot of people give for being pro-life." This group and others like it got their start six years ago, when pro-choice leader B. J. Isaacson-Jones was reading the St. Louis Post-Dispatch. She was drawn to an article by pro-life lawyer Andrew Puzder that cited statistics for maternal and child poverty in Missouri and stated that "surely these numbers alone suggest the existence of some common ground between the pro-life and pro-choice factions.... While neither side is going to make concessions on the basic underlying issue (life vs. privacy), it is difficult to see how either side would hurt its position by jointly seeking legislative aid for impoverished women and their children (born and unborn)." Isaacson-Jones, then administrator of Reproductive Health Services, one of the country's largest abortion clinics, called Puzder, and invited him to meet her for an after-hours conversation. He agreed and the two met several times to discuss such issues, as adoption, welfare reform, and crack-addicted pregnant women. After having met privately for several months, Isaacson-Jones and Puzder were invited to appear on a local TV show. The station was so cautious about mixing these two famed enemies that they put them in separate studios for the live show. Then at one point in the show Isaacson-Jones said, "By the way, Andy and I have been talking..." Within a week the secret meetings were national news. FIVE YEARS later, over 500 people have participated in Common Ground dialogues. A typical initial session begins with an explanation of the common ground concept. "Our goal wasn't then, nor is it now, to solve the abortion issue. We are not trying to mediate compromise or even find middle ground," says Isaacson-Jones. Instead, participants visualize common ground as the area shared by two overlapping circles. They do not challenge the integrity of each complete circle but make a decision to focus on thearea of overlap instead of on points of disagreement. The Common Ground Network for Life and Choice, which unites local Common Ground groups, puts it this way: "When all participants are standing together in the area of intersection they can look out at their differences but their perspectives change, because they are standing in the common space looking out, instead of staying in their own circles glaring at each other." Organizers go over the ground rules, asking participants to speak honestly and personally (not for an organization), reminding them that they've come to learn and not to debate, and urging them to respect confidentiality, both during the meetings and afterwards. Participants then break into small groups, perhaps two pro-life, two pro-choice and a facilitator. They are invited to take turns explaining why they hold the positions they do, and encouraged to talk not only about core beliefs but about influential life experiences. A return to large-group sharing might include lunch, then another session in small groups. A Common Ground questionnaire asks participants to rank their agreement with opinion statements on the abortion issue. Then participants are asked to take the survey second time, but with a twist: this time they are to answer the questions as someone on the other side would answer them. Many are surprised when, they learn that they've inaccurately stereo typed their opponents. For example, pro-choicers tend to predict that pro-lifers prefer top-down authoritative decision-making to a more collaborative process, and are surprised to find that the reverse is true. They also tend to underestimate pro-lifers' recognition of the fact that it is hard to write a law that can always be applied fairly. Pro-lifers can be as inaccurate in their predictions of pro-choice beliefs. In one poll most of the pro-choicers agreed that abortion is a violent procedure and not an appropriate method of birth control; nearly all pro-choicers called motherhood "a desirable full-time career"; and they were also far less likely to approve recreational sex without commitment than pro-lifers expected. As the common ground session draws to a close, participants reflect on whether they want to meet again, and if so, whether they want to continue talking or tackle a joint project. TALKING IS the easier course; there have been very few successful Common Ground action projects of any size. Aside from gaining personal insights and a conviction that "the pro-choice movement needs a broader agenda," Isaacson-Jones says, "I don't think I have been terribly successful. I have not been able to generate any action, or claim any substantive change." Isaacson-Jones is discouraged, at least in part, by the failure of one of her dreams. When Reproductive Health Services opened an on-site adoption agency--the only abortion clinic in the country to do so--it successfully placed black children with black couples on a timely basis. But since minority adoptive families were not always able to pay adoption fees, this created a financial drain. Adoption Associates absorbed the deficit for as long as possible, but ultimately had to shut down. Appeals for help and funding were refused by both pro-life and pro-choice groups. Other groups have focused on the process of dialogue: * In the Boston area, family therapist Laura Chasin began to wonder if the increasingly deadlocked abortion debate might become more productive if opponents learned to dialogue using family-therapy techniques. The Public Conversations project of the Family Institute of Cambridge involved 70 activists over a two-year period, and renewed projects were undertaken this past fall. Chasin and her associates have carefully documented their process and results, and hope their work will be useful to other Common Ground groups, as well as to professionals in such related fields as conflict resolution and cross-cultural communication. * In the wake of an Operation Rescue campaign, the Buffalo Council of Churches formed the Buffalo Coalition for Common Ground. The group helped the local ABC affiliate produce a half-hour television program involving a dialogue between a local Operation Rescue spokeswoman and a pro-choice leader. * At the instigation of Wisconsin pro-choice activist Maggi Cage, six people (three on each side) met over a 13-month period with a professional mediator. Four state legislators (two on each side) who had encouraged the formation of the group worked on legislation to implement the group's recommendations, particularly in the area of parental involvement in sex education. * In 1991 eight San Francisco women from diverse backgrounds planned a retreat to diminish local hostility on the abortion issue. Thirty-one women interacted in small and large groups. THE COMMON Ground Network for Life and Choice, which unites these and other efforts, is a project of a, Washington, D.C.-based group called Search for Common Ground. This organization has been involved in conflict resolution between individuals in American and Russia, in the Middle East, Eastern Europe and South Africa. Its involvement in the abortion issue began when it was asked to assist the Buffalo project. Since then, it has worked with Common Ground initiatives in Cleveland, Denver, Washington, D.C., Minneapolis-St. Paul and Philadelphia, and in Pensacola, Florida, Davenport, Iowa, and Norfolk, Virginia. The first national conference bringing together participants and facilitators, both experienced ones and beginners, is planned for late spring in Madison, Wisconsin. Not all Common Ground work is easy. Participants talk about the sting of being attacked by fellow pro-lifers or pro-choicers. "When this first started, it was very difficult to be criticized by your colleagues," says jean Cavender, who was Isaacson-Jones's assistant. "Neither side wanted us to be talking to each other. They're still uncomfortable, not really rallying us on." Mary Bea Stout, a pro-life activist in St. Louis, muses that when she sees "Reproductive Health Services talking nice with pro-lifers, offering adoption, the possibility is that the abortion industry is defending its rear." Her criticism--that such dialogues only enhance the credibility of the enemy--is the most common complaint. WHILE SOME leaders of the pro-life movement have joined the advisory board of the Network for Life and Choice, others, like American Life League president Judy Brown, criticize such efforts as "seeking common ground with proponents of murder." Even for those supporting Common Ground, the process gets tough. Some tire of the tendency to talk and not act. It is hard for groups to put their sporadic unity and good feelings into concrete action. Practical projects acceptable to both sides are not easy to identify. If joint action is agreed upon, it is an uphill battle to make an impact simply because the problems surrounding unplanned pregnancy are so intractable. It is hard enough when professional, funded, motivated activists are united on the same side of the issue. How much harder, then, when the unity is tenuous and the project is unfunded and being attempted by people in their spare time while under fire from their colleagues? Participants are most likely to be satisfied with their experience if their expectations are more geared to relationship-building and understanding than to concrete accomplishments. For those who value friendship, Common Ground can be a blessing. When asked about successes in the Common Ground movement, Isaacson-Jones mentions "a personal healing within myself." She refers to her friendship with pro-life activist Loretto Wagner. "Had I not known her, there would have been so many positive things I would have lost. I really have enjoyed the gift of her family; I love being in her home, listening to her stories, seeing her family photos. She's warm and wonderful and has a great sense of humor. I trust her very much." Many years ago, Wagner picketed outside Isaacson-Jones's abortion clinic. Now she says, "I actually feel closer to B. J. as a friend than to some people in the pro-life movement." When pro-lifers taunt B. J. harshly, Wagner says, "I feel extremely pained, very sorry and sad when people take a knock at her. We're not approving of what she's doing, but she's a human being, not a moving target." Wagner continues, "Maybe the reason this abortion thing has been so difficult and has dragged on so long is because our hearts are still too hard. Maybe God isn't going to help us out until we have the right feeling in our hearts, of loving others even when we disagree."
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