On The Abortion Pill Bus

"If we get arrested, we get arrested!” says Rita Harrold of ROSA, with a shrug of her shoulders. We all laugh. The truth, however, is that this is no laughing matter.
We’re on the Abortion Pill Bus travelling from Dublin to Galway, Limerick and Cork with ROSA (“For Reproductive rights, against Oppression, Sexism and Austerity”), and yes, the law is most certainly being broken. The bus is at once a mobile clinic, an information office, and a protest against the 8th Amendment. Women in need of an abortion can have an online consultation with a doctor or come onboard to get information about medical abortion. The pills are not being given out from the bus itself, but they are onboard to make it easier to explain to people how they work – so we are transporting contraband.
ROSA was founded in the aftermath of the tragic, and needless, death of Savita Halappanavar in 2012. The Abortion Pill Bus is a service organised by ROSA and Dublin West TD Ruth Coppinger, in conjunction with Women On Web, a digital community of women created by Dutch doctor and human rights activist Rebecca Gomperts.
Since 1999, Gomperts has been helping women in countries where abortion is illegal or restricted. In Ireland, anyone who needs an abortion first does an online consultation with a Women on Web doctor, and if they are suitable for a medical abortion, ROSA activists will meet them within a day or two to give them the pills.
This process is necessary to protect both the woman with the crisis pregnancy, and pro-choice activists, from the potential impact of Ireland’s draconian abortion laws. It is hard to believe, but in ultra-modern Ireland, there’s a potential 14-year prison sentence for taking abortion pills, or for helping anyone to access them. To put that in perspective, Larry Murphy – “the Beast of Baltinglass” – served ten. Coppinger and ROSA activists are happy to take the risk.
“Our political calculation is that they’ll ignore us,” says ROSA’s Laura Fitzgerald. “That’s despite the fact that we’ve been in the press discussing what we’re doing.”
Coppinger believes that the risk of arrest is minimal. “I’ve brought the pills into the Dáil and waved them around and I haven’t been arrested yet,” she laughs.
The question is – why?
“I think they’re happy that there’s an escape valve, so that there’s an option for women without having to change the legislation,” explains Coppinger.
Is it a classic Irish solution to an Irish problem?
“Yes,” winces Coppinger. “They’re happy as long as they can sweep the issue under the rug.”
That’s no longer going to be possible, however, Coppinger insists.
“Abortion is fast becoming an election issue,” she argues. “Our fear is that they’ll try and insert a clause into the 8th amendment, but women and young people won’t stand for that. It is past time that it was repealed. It’s a more difficult topic than marriage equality, but I think if there was a referendum we could win it. Every day, celebrities and well-known people are coming out and telling their abortion stories. The government can’t ignore the issue any more.”
The polls bear this out. A survey done earlier this year by Amnesty International found that 81% of the population is in favour of a widening of abortion services in Ireland – whether for fatal foetal abnormalities, rape or incest – and two- thirds want abortion decriminalised. The poll also found that although Irish people over 55-years-old were least in favour of increasing access to abortion, this age group also disagreed most with the possible 14-year jail sentence for women who procure terminations.
For years the preferred response of the authorities here has been to export our abortion services to the UK and elsewhere in Europe. Figures from the UK Department of Health show that 3,735 women living in Ireland accessed abortion services in Britain in 2014. Thousands of women travel every year for terminations, but this option has become an expense fewer women can afford.
There’s a link between austerity and abortion, says Rita Harrold. “Cuts to benefits have made having a child impossible for many women,” she explains. “Lone parents are particularly at risk of poverty. Every week families have been made homeless because of austerity measures, even if one or both of them are working.”
The abortion pill is a significantly less costly option than travelling – below €100 against an estimated €1,500 – making it far more accessible to working class women, the unemployed and students. Furthermore a woman can have a termination, but with their family and friends nearby. It is also a godsend for refugees and migrants not able to travel between this State and the UK. As last year’s Ms Y case horrifically demonstrated, even the most sympathetic woman – a raped, suicidal refugee – may be denied an abortion under the sickeningly named Protection of Life During Pregnancy legislation.
“The vast majority of the women who contact us already have children,” says Coppinger. “They have children and because of their financial situation, their family situation, their age, or whatever reason, they know they are not in a position to have another child.”
The abortion pill is safe to take for up to 12 weeks, but Women on Web recommend no later than 9 weeks. As with any medical procedure, there are some risks involved, though these are actually lower than carrying a pregnancy to term. The risks, of course, have been exaggerated by anti-choice activists.
“Anti choice groups know,” Harrold says, “that if they were honest about the role they see for women – the 1950s idea of the wife at home – people would be put off. Instead, they exaggerate the numbers of women who regret their abortions and the risks of having a medical abortion. There are some women who regret their abortions – but the vast majority say they made the right decision.”
“We often get asked about the risks,” says Coppinger, “and we don’t think this is the ideal solution, but it is the best under the current circumstances. We want women to be able to see their own doctors to get an abortion. But that’s why we tell women to have a friend or family member with them and be near a doctor or A&E in the unlikely event that something does go wrong.”
There is also the possibility that women may lie about how far along their pregnancy is in order to get the pills. “Just think how desperate a woman who would do that is,” says Coppinger simply.
There is a small Garda presence in both Dublin and Galway to make sure there is no clash between pro-choice and anti-choice activists. The anti-choice turn out is small – less than ten people in either city – and the guards are far more concerned about where the bus is parked than the fact that there are abortion pills on board. In Galway, the Gardai won’t let the bus park at the Spanish Arch. The only suitable spot nearby is over the River Corrib, outside a church.
“People are going to think we did that on purpose,” says Coppinger ruefully.
After the rally in Galway, people are invited onto the bus. In spite of the television cameras and press photographers, women join in. There is a quiet defiance here and a sense that we could be witnessing history in the making. It’s just a few small steps from the rally to the bus for each of the women – but a giant leap for Irish womankind.

Rosa can be contacted via rosa.ie / Rebecca Gomberts can be reached at womenonweb.org