The 19th-century German statesman, Otto von Bismarck, once observed that “Politics is the art of the possible, the attainable—the art of the next best.” As we continue to take stock of the post-Dobbs moment—ushered in the overturning of the infamous decision of the American Supreme Court, Roe v. Wade—it is helpful to bear this remark in mind. Although, in the Canadian context, we can celebrate no similar legal victory, the overall effect of Roe’s demise on the world-wide abortion debate has been to redefine the meaning of “possible.”
It is not the case, of course, that Dobbs turned the tide decisively, and that the pro-life movement in the United States has since gone from strength to strength. On the contrary, the most recent American mid-term elections illustrated the galvanic effect that this defeat had on pro-abortion activists, advocates, and donors. But this sudden burst of energy—which led to many stinging, state-level defeats—only deepened the impression that abortion’s legality is far from being a fait accompli; it remains, rather, a contentious issue that will continue to be hotly contested in the years (and decades) to come.
Hence the timeliness of Bismarck’s famous phrase, and the slightly against-the-grain reading that our circumstances suggest. For if politics truly is the “art of the possible,” then possibility itself is what it seeks to shape. In other words, one can take Bismark’s pithy apothegm to mean that the real artistry of politics consists in shifting the Overton Window, and changing the parameters in which a debate transpires. The first lesson, then, to take to heart from the Dobbs decision is that that abortion is not a “settled issue” – the Overton Window can be shifted.
The rhetorical sleight-of-hand accomplished by that well-worn judgement, “settled issue,” deserves special attention. Social liberals have been ingenious at using language to craft the terms of a debate—and determining thereby the fate of debates in advance by setting the direction of travel. Such tactics reflect an attitude that is entirely continuous with that of Communist regimes, a stance which takes language to be merely a tool for misdirection, manipulation, and control. As the 20th-century Thomist philosopher Josef Pieper once observed, the abuse of language is the totalitarian’s first abuse of power, and the two are deeply linked. To say, then, that the debate about abortion has been settled in Canada when, to take just one example of our movement’s vibrant activity, annual Marches for Life have never been better attended, is little more than unconvincing propaganda, an act of linguistic violence by which reality is distorted rather than reflected.
While instances of such linguistic abuses are legion, none has been more destructive than the slow, discursive shift from civil rights to human rights. This shift turned the mid-20th-century American effort to achieve a fully integrated society into a vehicle for radical social change. By cloaking their efforts in the language of “rights” while modifying the word in question with whatever euphemistic modifier that their particular campaign required, these activists have achieved truly radical effects. Immutable biological, anthropological, and ontological facts—about everything from the beginning of life, the definition of marriage, or the status of one’s sexual identity—have yielded to the cultural saboteurs who have employed the language of rights.
Hence, the second lesson that the Canadian pro-life movement should take from the post-Dobbs moment: the victories that social liberals have achieved through distortions of language and false claims about a non-existent consensus can be reversed. Although the terms of the public debate about abortion in this country have been perniciously curtailed, there is no reason that the parameters of our discourse cannot be broadened. The Austro-British philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein once wrote that “the limits of my language mean the limits of my world,” and the world in which the debate about abortion in Canada exists badly needs to be enlarged.
This, then, leads to a third lesson: the most salient virtue for Canadian pro-lifers in the public square—from pundits to politicians—is courage. We live in an age wherein the convulsions of public cancellation are depressingly familiar. However, the rites of ostracization have become rote, and our collective reflexes for outrage have been fatigued. Ours, therefore, is an opportune time to test the enforcement powers of the court of public opinion. For social media piles-on pass, and the vigilant, ceaseless policing of views on which they depend have both become increasingly unseemly. The time for frank and unapologetic defenses of unborn life is now.
As a federal election looms, we need to press our would-be leaders and representatives to take such stands—or, at the very least, to commit to having freer and more open debates. Why, after all, should the United States be the only North American country where unfettered dialogue about crucial issues is possible? And why should the same common-sense policies which are in place in other countries, such as restrictions on late-term abortions, not even be broached? The first test of any party which would lead our great nation is its openness to such important exchanges. If such debates are suppressed by political leaders in this country, even while they thrive in other Western nations, voters may rightly conclude that the politicians who restrain them are unworthy of support.
To the victor belong the spoils. There is, at hand, a moment which courageous politicians could seize for the good of the country; a moment to be daring and to press for more candor is our public discourse. But this moment will pass quickly. If Canadian politicians fail to be emboldened by the rapid developments elsewhere in the world, they will not only lose the chance to change the conversation in this country for the better, but they will also, rightly, be seen to have failed to meet this moment with the character that it requires. Canadian citizens would judge such leaders harshly—and, in so doing, their judgements would not be wrong.
