Texan senate breaks own rules in failed attempt to pass anti-abortion bill

"This is what democracy looks like".

There's confusion in Texas this morning, after a marathon filibuster speech aimed at preventing the passage of restrictive abortion laws was seemingly ignored by the state senate leadership. Democratic senator Wendy Davis spoke for 11 hours before being interrupted, but colleagues picked up the baton and continued the filibuster until midnight, when the legislative session should have ended. Instead, it appears that the Republican leadership of the legislature is attempting to use a mixture of twisted rules and misdirection to claim that the law passed anyway.

Senate Bill 5, the act in question, would completely ban abortions after 20 weeks of gestation in the state, with no exceptions even in cases of rape or incest, and it requires two in-person visits with a doctor before an abortion can be provided. Moreover, it imposes stringent requirements on the doctors and clinics offering the service. Physicians must have admitting privileges at a hospital no more than 30 miles from where the abortion is performed which provides OB/GYN services. In practice, that will shut a huge number of clinics, particularly in rural areas, and force doctors to jump through yet more hoops to provide abortions. Finally, the bill requires every abortion provider to be licensed as an ambulatory surgical centre, a hugely expensive and cumbersome requirement; Planned Parenthood estimates that that license alone could cost well over $1m to obtain, and render all but five clinics in the state unsustainable.

Against that background, the Democratic minority of the Texan senate used all the legislative tricks at the disposal. At the centre of the fightback was Senator Wendy Davis, a 50-year-old lawyer from Fort Worth, and her attempt to filibuster the law. Due to the procedure under which the legislation was being passed, any vote had to happen before midnight local time; Davis delayed that vote for 10 hours and 45 minutes, but eventually fell prey to the senate's "three-strike" rule, requiring her to only cover topics "germane" to the bill.

Her first warning was issued for a discussion of Planned Parenthood's budget. Her second warning wasn't for deviation, but for violation of the convention that filibusters be made unaided and unassisted – she had received help from a fellow senator to put on a back brace seven hours in. That point of order went to a vote, which split down party lines. Finally, at 10:07 local time, Donna Campbell, the Republican senator for San Antonio, called a third point of order when Davis began discussing the impact of a 2011 Texan law requiring sonograms before abortions. At that point, with three strikes, a simple majority vote was all that was needed to end the filibuster.

With less than two hours to go, Democrats began using other tactics to push the vote past the midnight deadline. Senator Kirk Watson filed an appeal against the Republican Lieutenant Governor's decision to sustain the third point of order; Senator Leticia Van de Putte asked for a run-down of the reasons for all three points of order; and eventually, decorum broke down entirely, with Senators from both parties openly speaking over each other. "At what point must a female senator raise her hand or her voice to be recognized over her male colleagues in the room?", asked Van de Putte in a moment of clear frustration.

In the end, it came down to the crowd. Cheering erupted with a quarter of an hour to go until the deadline, drowning out all other discussion. It intensified as the clock ticked down, and for a brief moment it looked like it had won the fight. Voting had started before midnight, but finished after; the last two questions were asked on 26 June, a fact clearly recorded on the legislature's website. Chants of "this is what democracy looks like" broke out.

But then it was the Republicans' turn to fight. Firstly the legislature's website went down. When it came back up, the timestamps had been altered to record all four votes as occurring on 25 June. Lt. Gov. Dewhurst told the AP that voting began just before midnight, leading the agency to report that the GOP had passed the bill, even as the assembled crowds were still celebrating their victory in preventing it.

As things stand, the Republican leadership of the legislature is acting as though the case is closed. The bill is being passed to Governor Rick Perry to be signed into law, and the assembled protestors outside the capitol are being forcibly dispersed. This is what democracy looks like, 2013 USA style.

That was fast. It took an hour of confusion, with both sides insisting their version of events were accurate, before the cold evidence seen by the 180,000 people watching the live-stream won out. Dewhurst reversed his posistion, and at 1:47am AP reported his declaration that the vote came too late to pass. The attempt to steal the vote nearly succeeded, and may well have done so if it weren't for the massive attention fostered on the bill by social media and campaign groups. Even while the protestors were being evicted, CNN was reporting on the calorie count of blueberry muffins. It's not as bad as it felt an hour ago; but damning nonetheless.

The Texas Capitol. Photograph: Flickr/tex1sam, CC-BY

Alex Hern is a technology reporter for the Guardian. He was formerly staff writer at the New Statesman. You should follow Alex on Twitter.

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Can religion trump the climate change deniers? Meet the inter-faith environmentalists

The role of faith in fighting intolerance, protecting the planet, and trumping Trump.

"I need my brothers here with me - Canon Giles and Rabbi Natan," said Dr Husna Ahmad, motioning for the two men to join her at the pulpit. Taking their hands and raising them above her head, she continued:

“[I need them] to be my voice, to fight for my right to practice my religion, for my right to wear the hijab and to care for my sons and daughters and granddaughters - as they would care for their own”.

Why do I ask for this at an evening about climate change? she asked, her voice now shaking with emotion. “Because only when we think as one humanity can we save this planet.”

The meeting at St John’s church, Waterloo, saw Christian, Muslim and Jewish leaders come together for the first-ever "Faith for the Climate" event. Their message echoed the wider Interfaith movement's statement on climate change: that caring for the earth is our shared responsibility. 

As so often with environmental subjects, the effort felt at risk of being shadowed by the more tangible needs of the soup-kitchen operating in the dusk outside. Yet at a time of rising Islamophobia and anti-Semitism building cross-community connections and tackling prejudice matter more than ever.

Not least since the fledgling consensus on climate change is also under threat. In the US, one of the world's great polluters, the Republican candidate Donald Trump is a climate change denier. 

During last night's televised debate Hillary Clinton took the businessman to task for saying that climate change was "a hoax perpetrated by the Chinese". Trump denied the accusation: "I did not, I did not, I do not say that," he responded. Yet his tweet history suggests otherwise - revealing how a toxic mix of xenophobia and climate scepticism play their part in his wider message.

Prepped with tea and pitta bread, attendees bore witness to a talk by Sir David King - the Foreign secretary's special representative on climate change. By 2035 the world needs to be at net zero emissions, King explained.

Unbearable heat waves, extreme flooding and biblical-levels of crop-destruction wait on the other side of this deadline.

Last week’s UN conference in New York has seen over 30 new nations, including the UK, officially commit to the Paris climate treaty.  Yet against such optimism must be set the looming prospect of a Trump Presidency in America. 

Not only has Trump said he would “cancel” America’s commitment to the Paris agreement. He has also promised to end the “war on coal”, scrap the Environment Protection Agency, and appoint an oil executive to be the Interior secretary. Without America’s support for global action on climate change, the 1.5 degrees target would be impossible to reach.

So how can religion help? On a direct level, many faith-based bodies are already utilising their vast networks to help tackle the challenge.

Since 2004, Operation Noah, a UK-based Christian charity, has called on the church to divest from fossil fuels.

Sir King also described the Pope's 2015 environmental encyclical as an important part of the "crescendo" that set the stage for the successful negotiations on the global climate deal. On the back of such international progress, groups such as Christian Aid, Islamic Relief and the Big Church Switch are strengthening their interventions. Just last week, Christian Aid announced a new $53m fund to improve energy efficiency in developing countries. 

But there is perhaps also another, less direct, way that religion is helping. Christian evangelicals in the US have been more likely to be climate sceptics. Yet in inter-religious contexts, the multiplicity of interpretations can also be an invitation to a deeper interrogation - of the very way we form assumptions about the world. 

Just look at how many takes there have been on the Noah story within Christianity alone. Mike Hulme at Kings College London points to an American Christian evangelical coalition which supports fossil fuels for their ability to provide cheap energy for the poor. Others have claimed that God’s promise to Noah not to drastically alter the earth again means that the impact of climate change will be softened. In contrast, others read floods as a punishment for human sin. According to the Bishop of Carlisle, the 2007 floods were “the consequences of our moral degradation, as well as the environmental damage that we have caused.”

While it may be tempting to pack unpalatable viewpoints off in a "basket of deplorables", or wipe them out with an apocalyptic flood, the takeaway from events like last Wednesday's seems to be a message of expanded community and common ground.

For Canon Giles, simply watching members of different faiths united in prayer had transformative power. "In that moment, we were no longer a gathering of different faiths and dogmas," he said. "We were simply members of the muddled human species, pooling our hopes and prayers."

India Bourke is the New Statesman's editorial assistant.