Family planning is a matter of social justice

Leaders have the opportunity to unleash women's full potential.

Many leaders from government and civil society will meet in London today to discuss family planning. What they discuss will have an impact on women and girls around the world.

Today more than 25,000 girls under the age of 18 will get married, and the same number will do so tomorrow, the next day, and the next. For the majority of these girls, pregnancy and childbirth will soon follow.

Complications in pregnancy and childbirth are the leading causes of death among adolescent girls aged 15-19 in low and middle-income countries, resulting in thousands of deaths every year. That so many women die as a result of complications from pregnancy or childbirth in the 21st century is a shocking indictment of the low priority given to the needs and status of women and girls in many societies.

As well, many suffer complications in childbirth. In the case of fistula, women may be rejected by their husbands and families and outcast by their communities. They may endure intense shame and physical pain.

Access to reproductive health services is a health issue, but it is also an issue of social justice and human development. It is a basic human right for women to enjoy full legal equality and equality of opportunity, and for a girl born today, in any country, to have the same life prospects as any boy.

When women’s needs for family planning and reproductive and sexual health services go unmet, their chances of finishing their education, entering and remaining in productive work, and breaking out of poverty are sharply reduced.

All too often, women and girls are discriminated against not only in access to health services, but also in education and in the labour market — with negative repercussions for not only their own freedoms, but for progress in their countries as a whole.  In 2010, UNDP introduced the Gender Inequality Index as part of its Human Development Reports, to reveal differences in the distribution of human development achievements between women and men so that policymakers know to take steps to reduce disparities.

Empowering women and girls is one of the strongest tools available to accelerate development. Sexual and reproductive health and rights are an essential component of that empowerment.

When women have control over their health and sexuality, they can plan their pregnancy and childbirth, better protect themselves from HIV and other sexually transmitted infections, and fare better in their families, households, communities, and countries.

This summit, hosted by the UK government and the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation, with UNFPA and other partners, could mark the start of a new drive to empower women and girls.

The Guttmacher Institute and UNFPA estimate that meeting the unmet need for modern family planning methods in developing countries would cost about $8.1 billion annually. With $4 billion of this total now being invested, there is a shortfall of $4.1 billion.

Leaders have the opportunity to help plug the $4.1 billion a year funding gap in order to get contraception to the hundreds of millions of women who would like to access family planning, but can’t.

Leaders can also take this opportunity to ensure that women’s and girls’ rights are enshrined in law, empowering them to decide whether, when, and how many children they have. 

When women can access family planning, they have the opportunity to shape their own future, and that of their children.  The benefits are felt across whole nations.

All our societies are the poorer if they fail to tap the full potential of half their population, and do not remove the obstacles to their success.

Helen Clark is the Administrator of the United Nations Development Programme and the former Prime Minister of New Zealand
 

A Philippine health worker lectures pregnant women on responsible family planning. Photograph: Getty Images
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Andy Burnham and Sadiq Khan are both slippery self-mythologisers – so why do we rate one more than the other?

Their obsessions with their childhoods have both become punchlines; but one of these jokes, it feels to me, is told with a lot more affection than the other.

Andy Burnham is a man whose policies and opinions seem to owe more to political expediency than they do to belief. He bangs on to the point of tedium about his own class, background and interests. As a result he’s widely seen as an unprincipled flip-flopper.

Sadiq Khan is a man whose policies and opinions seem to owe more to political expediency than they do to belief. He bangs on to the point of tedium about his own class, background and interests. As a result he’s the hugely popular mayor of London, the voice of those who’d be proud to think of themselves as the metropolitan liberal elite, and is even talked of as a possible future leader of the Labour party.

Oh, and also they were both born in 1970. So that’s a thing they have in common, too.

Why it is this approach to politics should have worked so much better for the mayor of London than the would-be mayor of Manchester is something I’ve been trying to work out for a while. There are definite parallels between Burnham’s attempts to present himself as a normal northern bloke who likes normal things like football, and Sadiq’s endless reminders that he’s a sarf London geezer whose dad drove a bus. They’ve both become punchlines; but one of these jokes, it feels to me, is told with a lot more affection than the other.

And yes, Burnham apparent tendency to switch sides, on everything from NHS privatisation to the 2015 welfare vote to the leadership of Jeremy Corbyn, has given him a reputation for slipperiness. But Sadiq’s core campaign pledge was to freeze London transport fares; everyone said it was nonsense, and true to form it was, and you’d be hard pressed to find an observer who thought this an atypical lapse on the mayor’s part. (Khan, too, has switched sides on the matter of Jeremy Corbyn.)

 And yet, he seems to get away with this, in a way that Burnham doesn’t. His low-level duplicity is factored in, and it’s hard to judge him for it because, well, it’s just what he’s like, isn’t it? For a long time, the Tory leadership’s line on London’s last mayor was “Boris is Boris”, meaning, look, we don’t trust him either, but what you gonna do? Well: Sadiq is Sadiq.

Even the names we refer to them by suggest that one of these two guys is viewed very differently from the other. I’ve instinctively slipped into referring to the mayor of London by his first name: he’s always Sadiq, not Khan, just as his predecessors were Boris and Ken. But, despite Eoin Clarke’s brief attempt to promote his 2015 leadership campaign with a twitter feed called “Labour Andy”, Burnham is still Burnham: formal, not familiar. 

I’ve a few theories to explain all this, though I’ve no idea which is correct. For a while I’ve assumed it’s about sincerity. When Sadiq Khan mentions his dad’s bus for the 257th time in a day, he does it with a wink to the audience, making a crack about the fact he won’t stop going on about it. That way, the message gets through to the punters at home who are only half listening, but the bored lobby hacks who’ve heard this routine two dozen times before feel they’re in the joke.

Burnham, it seems to me, lacks this lightness of touch: when he won’t stop banging on about the fact he grew up in the north, it feels uncomfortably like he means it. And to take yourself seriously in politics is sometimes to invite others to make jokes at your expense.

Then again, perhaps the problem is that Burnham isn’t quite sincere enough. Sadiq Khan genuinely is the son of a bus-driving immigrant: he may keep going on about it, but it is at least true. Burnham’s “just a northern lad” narrative is true, too, but excludes some crucial facts: that he went to Cambridge, and was working in Parliament aged 24. Perhaps that shouldn’t change how we interpret his story; but I fear, nonetheless, it does.

Maybe that’s not it, though: maybe I’m just another London media snob. Because Burnham did grow up at the disadvantaged end of the country, a region where, for too many people, chasing opportunities means leaving. The idea London is a city where the son of a bus driver can become mayor flatters our metropolitan self-image; the idea that a northerner who wants to build a career in politics has to head south at the earliest opportunity does the opposite. 

So if we roll our eyes when Burnham talks about the north, perhaps that reflects badly on us, not him: the opposite of northern chippiness is southern snobbery.

There’s one last possibility for why we may rate Sadiq Khan more highly than Andy Burnham: Sadiq Khan won. We can titter a little at the jokes and the fibs but he is, nonetheless, mayor of London. Andy Burnham is just the bloke who lost two Labour leadership campaigns.

At least – for now. In six weeks time, he’s highly likely to the first mayor of Greater Manchester. Slipperiness is not the worst quality in a mayor; and so much of the job will be about banging the drum for the city, and the region, that Burnham’s tendency to wear his northernness on his sleeve will be a positive boon.

Sadiq Khan’s stature has grown because the fact he became London’s mayor seems to say something, about the kind of city London is and the kind we want it to be. Perhaps, after May, Andy Burnham can do the same for the north – and the north can do the same for Andy Burnham.

Jonn Elledge edits the New Statesman's sister site CityMetric, and writes for the NS about subjects including politics, history and Daniel Hannan. You can find him on Twitter or Facebook.