'This is a wave': Inside the network of anti-abortion activists winning across the US

Anti-abortion activists Mike Gonidakis, Sue Swayze Liebel and Eric Johnston. Photo / Maddie McGarvey, Nick Schnelle and Bob Miller, The New York Times

State after state is passing sweeping abortion restrictions this year, from Alabama's near total abortion ban, to Ohio's ban after a fetal heartbeat is detected, to Utah's ban after a pregnancy reaches 18 weeks. Already, eight states have passed laws that could challenge federal protections for abortion, with more on the way, prompting jubilation on the right and terror on the left.

The laws may appear to present a united front and a coordinated political campaign. Instead they reflect a sustained effort by a network of disparate activists, each with their own strategy honed over decades of work.

"It's not like there's some master planner out there saying, 'This state should do this and this state should do that,'" said Samuel Lee, a longtime lobbyist for anti-abortion legislation in Missouri. "But there are some creative people out there in different states trying different things."

The anti-abortion movement, built over nearly five decades, is closer than it has ever been to its long-held dream of dismantling Roe v. Wade, the landmark ruling that legalised abortion nationwide.

Empowered by a president who pushes their priorities, by a Supreme Court now seemingly tipped in their favor and by sheer determination, anti-abortion activists and lawmakers across the country have pushed dozens of bills into law in the past few months.

The most aggressive of the anti-abortion laws that have been passed have not taken effect and are expected to face challenges in court — which in some cases was an aim of the anti-abortion activists to begin with.

Perhaps more than any coordinated strategy, activists across the country are tapping into the same energy and feeding on one another's momentum.

"This is a wave that is rolling across our country in the pro-life states," said Sue Swayze Liebel, who runs the National Pro-Life Women's Caucus for Susan B. Anthony List. "Everybody just put the pedal down, let's all go, everybody rushing to the finish line."

Samuel Lee, an anti-abortion lobbyist, at the State Capitol in Jefferson City. Photo / Nick Schnelle, The New York Times

Liebel spent the most momentous week in years for the anti-abortion movement on the road. She started with activists in Texas, to drum up support for a bill that would ban abortion on the basis of race, sex or disability.

By Wednesday, she was at the Missouri statehouse to champion a bill that would ban abortions after the eighth week of pregnancy. By the end of the week, she was cheering friends like Republican state Rep. Mary Elizabeth Coleman, an architect of the bill, as it passed the Legislature.

The movement's grassroots networks can be hard to define.

Activists are more likely to coordinate through their Catholic and evangelical churches than on mass political listservs or email chains. In some states, the local Right to Life chapter may be the strongest activist hub. In others, it might be the Concerned Women for America chapter, or the regional Family Policy Council group.

The activists do not often agree on whether their priority should be to pass a six-week ban or a 20-week one. But together, their efforts have magnified the voices of millions of Americans who want abortion to be illegal, and they are prevailing over millions of other Americans who do not.

If there is a legislative link, it is in the national anti-abortion groups, like Susan B. Anthony List or National Right to Life, who offer model legislation and research for lawmakers and activists. Firms like the Alliance Defending Freedom or Americans United for Life offer legal counsel as the laws take shape. But raw cultural momentum has taken over and shows no signs of slowing.

"The advice of lawyers is of less concern than it ever has been in the pro-life movement right now," Lee said. "They don't care. Social movements sometimes take on a life of their own."

That is what happened in Alabama, which on Wednesday passed the nation's most restrictive measure, effectively banning abortion unless a woman's health is at "serious" risk. The president of the Alabama Pro-Life Coalition, Eric Johnston, who calls himself an abortion purist, felt the slew of anti-abortion legislation that has been approved by other states in recent months did not go far enough.

This included even the so-called fetal heartbeat bills, which outlaw abortion as early as six weeks into a pregnancy, when an ultrasound may be able to detect the pulsing of what will become the foetus' heart. Even in cases of rape and incest the foetus must always be the primary concern, he said, but not if the mother's life is in danger.

Last summer, as the Senate prepared to confirm Justice Brett Kavanaugh to the Supreme Court, Johnston, 72, saw an opportunity. After years of pushing various abortion restrictions, he began to write a bill for his most restrictive one yet. His language became central to the final law.

Mary Taylor, who leads ProLife Utah, at the Utah State Capitol in Salt Lake City. Photo / Kim Raff, The New York Times

The Supreme Court may decide not to take any abortion cases. But Johnston and other activists channelling the movement's energy say this is the closest they have ever come to a perfect shot.

"All the stars were lining up," he said. "I thought, This may be the best time to do it."

Activists in Utah say that strategy never would have worked in their state, even though they applaud Alabama's boldness. Mary Taylor, who leads ProLife Utah, said she felt "envious" watching other states pass anti-abortion bills. The Utah Legislature is a bit more cautious, she said, and so her coalition decided to push the 18-week ban instead of others that would go into effect around six weeks.

Still, the surge of proposals across the country have helped her brainstorm more of her own for the next legislative session. Sometimes she talks with friends she has met over the years, like Liebel. But a simple newspaper article about another state's strategy is often enough to generate a new idea, and a phone call to a new ally about how to proceed.

"I'll reach out and ask, 'What were your strong points, what were the pitfalls?' Things like that," she said. "I've got one in the works right now."

The success of the anti-abortion movement is far from sudden. In Ohio, Michael Gonidakis, president of Ohio Right to Life, said legislative successes in his state have come about through years of slow, careful and sometimes tedious work.

Because Ohio was the first state to try, in 2011, to pass a ban on abortion after a fetal heartbeat is detected, Gonidakis said he had received calls from "state senators in almost every Midwestern state" asking about strategy. He also talked on the phone with policy staff for the state Senate in Kentucky, which later passed its own heartbeat bill.

Activists have been buttressed by many of the nation's conservative churches, which have increased their emphasis on abortion policy in recent years. A few decades ago, many Southern Baptist churches would preach far more frequently against divorce, fornication and premarital sex, said Wayne Flynt, one of Alabama's most influential historians and an ordained Baptist minister. "There has been a huge shift," he said, "and a narrowing of focus to abortion and same-sex marriage."

This cultural movement is finding wins beyond the outright abortion bans. In Arkansas, where lawmakers recently banned most abortions after 18 weeks, Rose Mimms, who has led Arkansas Right to Life for 26 years, worked to pass additional priorities of the movement that have gotten much less public attention. While fellow activists pushed through things like the ban and a trigger law to outlaw most abortions if Roe is overturned, Mimms, 64, focused on under-the-radar bills, like one to amend the state's safe haven law.

A couple of years ago, she heard an activist speak about a "Safe Haven Baby Boxes" project, to install and promote secure boxes at hospitals and fire stations for women to surrender their infants without the threat of criminal prosecution. The interaction prompted her to push for a new law, passed this February, to add fire stations as a drop-off location.

Mary Elizabeth Coleman of Missouri, an architect of a bill that would ban abortions after the eighth week of pregnancy, celebrated when it passed. Photo / Nick Schnelle, The New York Times

Republican control over state legislatures, built since the Tea Party wave in 2010, has made much of the anti-abortion movement's success possible.

A vision for the Missouri bill started to emerge when its Republican freshman legislators took a bus trip across the state in 2018. Coleman, 37, a newly elected senator and longtime anti-abortion activist, struck up conversation with two other colleagues about how to build a new legislative strategy.

Later, they combined forces with others and the legislation grew into what they called a "pro-life omnibus." It included bans on abortions based on race, sex and Down syndrome diagnosis. It also included a tax credit for donations to pregnancy centers run by opponents of abortion and a requirement that both parents be notified when a minor seeks an abortion. Currently, consent is required only from one.

One of the legislators' goals was to try new legal arguments in the state, and to review circuit court opinions on past laws to anticipate future roadblocks, Coleman said between votes on Thursday.

Counter punches from Democrats in blue states only cemented the movement's resolve. Outrage among activists grew after New York passed a law protecting abortion in later stages of pregnancy, and Virginia's governor used language that many Republicans saw as an endorsement of infanticide.

Ralph Northam, the Democratic governor, described a situation in which an infant would be delivered with severe deformities, and then a "discussion would ensue between the physicians and the mother."

In Mississippi, anger over the remarks in Virginia led to a meeting between two of the state's most powerful men, Lt. Gov. Tate Reeves and state Sen. Joey Fillingane, a leading critic of abortion in the Legislature. That impromptu conversation revived a bill, now signed into law, that would effectively ban abortions after the sixth week of pregnancy.

Abortion rights groups are planning to fight many of these laws in court. On Tuesday, at statehouses and courthouses nationwide, groups like NARAL and Planned Parenthood are planning to protest the slew of new abortion bans.

"We must unite against this unprecedented attack on our fundamental rights and freedoms," Dr. Leana Wen, president of the Planned Parenthood Action Fund, said in a statement. "We are in the fight of our lives."

Opponents, for their part, feel the same about their fight.

"It doesn't take any coordination," said Reeves, who is running for governor of Mississippi. "Obviously, in anything in life, whether it's a basketball game or my daughter's 14-and-under travel softball team this weekend, momentum matters. As momentum grows, it gives others the ability and confidence that they can get this done."

Written by: Elizabeth Dias, Sabrina Tavernise and Alan Blinder
Photographs by: Nick Schnelle, Bob Miller, Maddie McGarvey and Kim Raff

© 2019 THE NEW YORK TIMES