The morning after in Wisconsin

By Robert Meyer

I'm encouraged to hear about the proposed ban on morning after pills on Wisconsin college campuses. Of course, such a proposal will be viciously opposed, but it's comforting to see some legislative sanity still exists.

I can't deny that others are diametrically against to my stance on this issue. In my local city paper one letter writer believes that inaccessibility to "after the fact" birth control, or contraception in general, is responsible for more unwanted pregnancies, thus ultimately more abortions. But that turns the argument on its head. The real problem is greater promiscuity made possible by the lure of sexual escapades without adverse consequences. Telling teens and young adults to have "safe sex," only encourages sexual activity regardless of whether it is "safe" or not. Once we offer our approval to certain behaviors, we only increase the likelihood that they will grow in frequency of practice even without the safeguards that permissive folks claim will be the solution to the problem.

I know the drill — they're going to do it anyway. Well, then let's approach cigarette and drug problems with the same logic. Do we conclude that all we can do is dispense big honkin' filters and clean needles, so they "do it" safely? I have always wondered why advocates of these liberal policies can't see the contradictory nature of their ideologically opposite approaches to these issues. How does a group which is philosophically inclined to say that man is basically good, then turn around and claim that it is suddenly impossible to resist biological urges, in order to make a decision that would be best for himself/herself and society?

This writer sneered "this isn't the 40's." But what did society do then that made out of wedlock births an anomaly, and which isn't being done today? After all, there was no "pill" in those days, and they didn't teach proper use of condoms in school. But they had clear moral vision about right and wrong, and personal pleasure and autonomy were subordinated to those cultural expectations. The public stigmatization of unmarried pregnancies counterbalanced the irrationality of raging hormones. Social taboos provided a formidable check against capricious dalliances. But it was more than that. By respecting the sanctity of marriage, and believing that the committed relationship was the proper venue for sexual relations, abstinence was virtuous and idealistic, not a devise of repression. We have to legitimately ask how serious we are about solving the problem, if we oppose solutions when they inconvenience the foolish pleasure of our imaginations.

Of course the issue of "studies" will raise its head. People will make statements that are utterly astounding, such as, every study shows that abstinence does not work, or that the only proven method to curtail unwanted pregnancies is more education about birth control. I think the the last five or six decades would be a strong empirical argument against these claims though. We could sit around all day and argue whether or not my statistics and studies trump the findings of your statistics and studies. But that approach throws out common sense, and assumes that all research is completely objective by definition, and that those conducting the study have no stake in the outcome of the findings. I am not one who puts stock in "neutrality."

It is also of interest that the same crowd who is enraged about a public invocation being sponsered with public money, has no concern about using the taxpayer's money to teach exclusively their own positions on birth control and sexuality.

Let's bring some candor to this debate. When was the last time you saw birth control advocates protest at an abortion clinic? For many of them, abortion is just plan B if plan A fails. The true reason for advocacy of the abortion pill, a.k.a. emergency contraception, is to facilitate unbridled and guiltless sexual exploration. Let's just admit it, rather than hiding behind the euphemistic and transparent veneer of "reproductive rights."

© Robert Meyer