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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Erdogan’s purge was too big and too organised to be a mere reaction to the failed coup

There is a specific word for the melancholy of Istanbul. The city is suffering a mighty bout of something like hüzün at the moment. 

Even at the worst of times Istanbul is a beautiful city, and the Bosphorus is a remarkable stretch of sea. Turks get very irritated if you call it a river. They are right. The Bosphorus has a life and energy that a river could never equal. Spend five minutes watching the Bosphorus and you can understand why Orhan Pamuk, Turkey’s Nobel laureate for literature, became fixated by it as he grew up, tracking the movements of the ocean-going vessels, the warships and the freighters as they steamed between Asia and Europe.

I went to an Ottoman palace on the Asian side of the Bosphorus, waiting to interview the former prime minister Ahmet Davu­toglu. He was pushed out of office two months ago by President Recep Tayyip Erdogan when he appeared to be too wedded to the clauses in the Turkish constitution which say that the prime minister is the head of government and the president is a ceremonial head of state. Erdogan was happy with that when he was prime minister. But now he’s president, he wants to change the constitution. If Erdogan can win the vote in parliament he will, in effect, be rubber-stamping the reality he has created since he became president. In the days since the attempted coup, no one has had any doubt about who is the power in the land.

 

City of melancholy

The view from the Ottoman palace was magnificent. Beneath a luscious, pine-shaded garden an oil tanker plied its way towards the Black Sea. Small ferries dodged across the sea lanes. It was not, I hasten to add, Davutoglu’s private residence. It had just been borrowed, for the backdrop. But it reminded a Turkish friend of something she had heard once from the AKP, Erdogan’s ruling party: that they would not rest until they were living in the apartments with balconies and gardens overlooking the Bosphorus that had always been the preserve of the secular elite they wanted to replace.

Pamuk also writes about hüzün, the melancholy that afflicts the citizens of Istanbul. It comes, he says, from the city’s history and its decline, the foghorns on the Bosphorus, from tumbledown walls that have been ruins since the fall of the Byzantine empire, unemployed men in tea houses, covered women waiting for buses that never come, pelting rain and dark evenings: the city’s whole fabric and all the lives within it. “My starting point,” Pamuk wrote, “was the emotion that a child might feel while looking through a steamy window.”

Istanbul is suffering a mighty bout of something like hüzün at the moment. In Pamuk’s work the citizens of Istanbul take a perverse pride in hüzün. No one in Istanbul, or elsewhere in Turkey, can draw comfort from what is happening now. Erdogan’s opponents wonder what kind of future they can have in his Turkey. I think I sensed it, too, in the triumphalist crowds of Erdogan supporters that have been gathering day after day since the coup was defeated.

 

Down with the generals

Erdogan’s opponents are not downcast because the coup failed; a big reason why it did was that it had no public support. Turks know way too much about the authoritarian ways of military rule to want it back. The melancholy is because Erdogan is using the coup to entrench himself even more deeply in power. The purge looks too far-reaching, too organised and too big to have been a quick reaction to the attempt on his power. Instead it seems to be a plan that was waiting to be used.

Turkey is a deeply unhappy country. It is hard to imagine now, but when the Arab uprisings happened in 2011 it seemed to be a model for the Middle East. It had elections and an economy that worked and grew. When I asked Davutoglu around that time whether there would be a new Ottoman sphere of influence for the 21st century, he smiled modestly, denied any such ambition and went on to explain that the 2011 uprisings were the true succession to the Ottoman empire. A century of European, and then American, domination was ending. It had been a false start in Middle Eastern history. Now it was back on track. The people of the region were deciding their futures, and perhaps Turkey would have a role, almost like a big brother.

Turkey’s position – straddling east and west, facing Europe and Asia – is the key to its history and its future. It could be, should be, a rock of stability in a desperately un­stable part of the world. But it isn’t, and that is a problem for all of us.

 

Contagion of war

The coup did not come out of a clear sky. Turkey was in deep crisis before the attempt was made. Part of the problem has come from Erdogan’s divisive policies. He has led the AKP to successive election victories since it first won in 2002. But the policies of his governments have not been inclusive. As long as his supporters are happy, the president seems unconcerned about the resentment and opposition he is generating on the other side of politics.

Perhaps that was inevitable. His mission, as a political Islamist, was to change the country, to end the power of secular elites, including the army, which had been dominant since Mustafa Kemal Atatürk created modern Turkey after the collapse of the Ottoman empire. And there is also the influence of chaos and war in the Middle East. Turkey has borders with Iraq and Syria, and is deeply involved in their wars. The borders do not stop the contagion of violence. Hundreds of people have died in the past year in bomb attacks in Turkish cities, some carried out by the jihadists of so-called Islamic State, and some sent by Kurdish separatists working under the PKK.

It is a horrible mix. Erdogan might be able to deal with it better if he had used the attempted coup to try to unite Turkey. All the parliamentary parties condemned it. But instead, he has turned the power of the state against his opponents. More rough times lie ahead.

Jeremy Bowen is the BBC’s Middle East editor. He tweets @bowenbbc

This article first appeared in the 28 July 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Summer Double Issue