Rethinking the ‘International’ in the Politics of
Women’s Health: An Ethnographic Excursion Through the Story
of the Anti-Fertility Vaccine and Beyond
Using my own experiences travelling between feminisms in
Australia and India, I argue that there has been a lack of
interrogation into the ‘internationalisms’ that
operate in the politics of women’s health, resulting in
the perpetuation of a chasm among feminists on issues such as
contraception and reproductive rights. I consider the chasm
in feminist perspectives a productive analytic site and use
this as a framework for exploring the concept of the
‘international’ in a campaign that has been
deemed a success in the realm of international women’s
health politics: the campaign against the Anti-Fertility
Vaccine. I examine the various
‘internationalisms’ that operate in the
narratives of the campaign from different standpoints,
comparing ‘international’ commentary to the
perspectives elicited by Indian activists. By viewing the
campaign in the context of the Indian women’s health
movement I demonstrate how dominant versions of
internationalism serve to marginalise other more inclusive
feminist internationalisms. In doing so, I seek to uncover
some of the stumbling blocks that prevent the synchronisation
of feminisms in the field of women’s health
politics.
Like numerous other feminist engagements that seek to transcend
national borders, the domain of the ‘international’
in the politics of women’s health is vibrantly contested.
For this special issue on Feminist Engagements in Other Places,
I would like to think about how experiences of
‘other’ places might lead us to more critically
reflect on the ‘international’ in a way that
enables us to go beyond an enquiry into the universal goals of
feminisms. Feminist theory has been exploring the tension
between universalist claims to female oppression and
differences within the category of ‘women’ since
the late seventies. There is a well-established literature
tracking the specificities and relational histories of various
feminisms (eg. ‘Western’ feminism, feminist
politics of ‘women of Colour’ and ‘Third
World’ feminism) and the power differentials entailed in
them (Mohanty 1988; Grewal and Kaplan 1994; Basu 1995; Ram
1998a; Mohanty 2003). However, the recognition of differences
in a feminist politics that seeks to cross national borders
does not easily resolve the inequalities entailed in them.
Power relations run deeper than feminist theories that
misguidedly neglect the ‘Third world’ perspective,
and difference is produced by the fact that women are variously
located in a range of social and political positions.
Each of these factors contributes to what Mary John (1999: 195)
has noted as “the elusiveness of
‘internationalism’ as a concept and a goal”
for feminisms. She stresses that as we look beyond the borders
of the national, “dominant transnational (global?)
forces” predispose us to view feminist concerns from
certain angles. This became utterly apparent to me as I
travelled between Australia and India, doing ethnographic
fieldwork on reproductive health politics. Moving between
feminisms, I encountered contradictory views on the subject of
population control and family planning:
It is Thursday, the last Thursday I will spend in
Delhi before returning home to Sydney. I have travelled
beyond the perimeter of Delhi to a region known as Gurgaon
– at once commercial hub and reminiscent of suburbia
– it is a place that does not fit easily into my
previous notions of peripheral city zones. I am meeting with
an activist-academic to discuss a contraceptive campaign that
occurred nearly a decade ago and my interest perplexes her. I
encourage her to reflect on the political outcomes of the
campaign and we begin to speak more generally about the shift
in focus of the Indian women’s movement. She takes
pause and then tells me that the political focus of the
movement has begun to go beyond the politics of contraception
that targeted the population control establishment. She
suggests that this is partly because the problem of
‘population’ is no longer discussed in
middle-class circles the way it once was; given India’s
place in the world today, it is no longer such a negative
asset.
The following Thursday I find myself in the heart of
Sydney talking to some feminists who lobby the Australian
government on reproductive health issues. One of the women
tells me that she has always seen ‘family
planning’ and the ‘environment’ as issues
of importance. She laments that ‘family planning’
is no longer an aid priority due to the visibility of
HIV/AIDS and tells me how she has to remind politicians of
the importance of family planning. But once you explain to
them, she says, about the ticking bomb, the population
explosion that is right on our doorstep, they scratch their
heads and say, ‘oh yes!’ And then they get
it.
(Extracted from author’s field notes)
There are numerous ways which these extracts from my field
notes could be read as illustrative of the multiplicity of
perspectives that emerge from women’s varying
experiential worlds: the perplexity that I, a young Australian
researcher, inspire among activists in India when I enquire
about the proceedings of a campaign on which the door has been
effectively shut, is just one indication of this. Taken
together, these conversations acquire significance through
their relational perspectives on the meaning of
‘population’ in the context of feminist politics.
There is commonality in that both women sense that the emphasis
on population control has shifted out of the international
political gaze. And yet, there is a radically different
perspective on what this means in terms of political strategy
and new directions for women’s health politics. For the
first it means a forward movement, turning attention to newer
and more pressing battles; for the second, it represents a
political loss that must be reclaimed.
In both instances, the women I spoke to considered their views
to be fairly uncontroversial among fellow women’s
activists in their respective places. By this I do not mean to
imply that these views are representative of all
women/feminists in India or Australia. Instead I wish to point
out that each perspective grows out of different and unequal
philosophical persuasions, resulting in opposing political
strategies that are evidenced on the topic of population
control. Were it not for my own exposure to Indian feminist
literature, as well as my experiences doing fieldwork in India,
I may not have thought the remarks of the Australian feminist
to be anything extraordinary. However, the disorientation I
experienced whilst talking to (Australian) women with whom I
share a feminist cultural tradition, served to draw my
attention to the persistence of a chasm in the politics of
women’s health as one travels across experiential
boundaries of place and culture.
I acknowledge this chasm in the politics of women’s
health not to dwell on the much belaboured point of
‘difference’ among feminist perspectives, but
rather to ask how such divergent perspectives are possible in a
political world that has embraced international collaboration
in the form of the International Women’s Health Movement
among other things. The chasm reminds us that theories of
feminisms do not always solve the dilemmas of political
practice. However, I also see this chasm as a productive
analytic site, from which we might better understand how
‘internationalism’ in the field of women’s
health politics continues to reinscribe dominant perspectives,
even as it claims to recognise difference. In order to do so, I
take an ethnographic approach to the question of
‘internationalism’ in the politics of women’s
health. I draw on archival material and field-based research in
relation to a campaign that has been deemed a success in the
realm of international women’s health politics: the
campaign against the Anti-Fertility Vaccine (AFV). The campaign
in question was part of a broader campaign against hazardous
contraceptives, but was also distinguished by a barrage of
focused campaign activities during the 1990s in which activists
called for “a halt to research on antifertility
‘vaccines’” (WGNRR 1993a). Field research for
this campaign was conducted primarily in Delhi, and consisted
of discussions and interviews with a range of people who are
politically engaged in women’s health issues in India.
The archival material is drawn from resource centers of
women’s groups in Delhi who were active during the
campaign against the AFV. This approach allows a shift from a
purely theoretical debate on such questions to one that is
based on closer attention to feminist political practices.
This shift is in keeping with the imperatives that keep
surfacing within feminist debates. Building on the project of
Feminism and Internationalism, a volume in which the
editors seek to work through “the productive tension
between the centrifugal force of discrepant feminist histories
and the promising potential of political organising across
cultural boundaries” (Sinha, Guy and Woollacott 1999: 1),
John argues from the perspective of India:
One of the more positive outcomes of all these
developments is that we are being forced to take a fresh look
at ‘pluralism’ and ‘diversity’, both
within the nation and beyond. If feminism is not singular,
neither is internationalism. It has become more important
than ever to understand the different stakes involved in
laying claim to local, national, and international
arenas… If there is a common condition that feminism
must address, it is one of unequal patriarchies and disparate
genders. The imperative, then, is to recognise how
asymmetries and structures of privilege may have prevented
solidarities; and to fight on many fronts to enable the
development of more viable feminisms. (John 1999:199-200)
John is not alone in her call for feminism to interrogate the
broader structures of inequality that may have impeded
“viable feminisms”. Chandra Mohanty (2003) has
refigured her influential critique of Western feminist theory
that called into question the production of the “average
Third World woman” (Mohanty 1988) to argue for an
“inclusive paradigm for thinking about social
justice”:
Perhaps it is no longer simply an issue of Western Eyes,
but rather how the West is inside and continually
reconfigures globally, racially, and in terms of gender.
Without this recognition, a necessary link between feminist
scholarship/analytic frames and organising/activist projects
is impossible. Faulty and inadequate analytic frames engender
ineffective political action and strategising for social
transformation. (Mohanty 2003: 236)
These debates point to the fact that feminist projects must
consider a wider vision of social justice in constructing an
analytic framework that will enable productive solidarities
across experiential borders.
Both John (1999) and Mohanty (2003) suggest that analytic
frameworks are dependent upon the standpoint from
which one views political projects seeking feminist solidarity.
In my analysis of the analytic frameworks operating in the AFV
campaign, I examine the AFV campaign from different
standpoints, comparing “international” commentary
from the standpoint of the centre to the perspectives elicited
by Indian women’s groups involved in the campaign. I find
John’s concept of the plurality of
“internationalism” a productive means of
elucidating the way in which numerous internationalisms
circulate from various standpoints in the debates on
international activism in the field of women’s health
politics. I consider the ways in which these internationalisms
compete within one another in making claims to represent
the international in the AFV campaign. Mohanty argues
that the standpoint of “marginalised communities”
provides the potential for an “analytic anchor”
from which to build an inclusive activist project. I build on
this concept to show how dominant versions of internationalism
serve to marginalise other, more inclusive feminist
internationalisms in the AFV campaign, and more generally in
the politics of women’s health.
Contours of the Controversy over the Anti-Fertility
Vaccine
The story of the Anti-Fertility Vaccine has been narrated from
numerous sociological, scientific, activist and feminist
perspectives. Of all the contraceptives that were targeted by
the women’s health movement against hazardous
contraceptives (which included critiques of injectable
contraceptives such as Norplant, Net-en and Depo-Provera), the
AFV stands out for its technological novelty as an
immuno-contraceptive. The biological premise of the AFV was
inspired by the discovery that in some cases an immune reaction
against sperm caused infertility; the aim was to replicate this
natural occurrence through developing a vaccine that could
induce infertility through the pathways of the immune system.
The prospective contraceptive vaccine would work by inducing an
autoimmune response whereby pregnancy hormones would be bound
to disease cells, thus tricking the immune system into fighting
off the hormones as if they were a disease (Fay Schrater 1992).
In a sociological study of science “in the making,”
Viswanath and Kirbat (2000) have traced the
“genealogy” of the controversy that surrounded AFV
research. They show that as a new form of contraceptive
technology without scientific precedence, the AFV generated
debate among researchers from early on. AFV research began in
the early 1970s and was taking place at numerous research
facilities across the world, co-ordinated by a World Health
Organisation Task Force, the Human Reproduction Programme
(WHO/HRP). Debates over the risks of various designs of the
vaccine began after tests on human subjects raised concerns for
researchers. Women experienced side effects and variation in
levels of response to the vaccine, concerns that resulted in a
rift developing between the National Institute of Immunology
(NII) Indian research team headed by Dr Pran Talwar, and the
other leading research team at Ohio State University in the
United States. In the wake of the controversy, the WHO drew up
regulatory safety guidelines for immuno-contraceptive research.
Under these guidelines Talwar’s research was deemed to
have conducted human trials with insufficient animal testing
and international funding sources withdrew their support for
the Indian team (Viswanath and Kirbat 2000: 719-720).
In light of the safety concerns regarding injectable
contraceptives that had already been developed and distributed,
activists seized on the opportunity to target the AFV during
the research phase. This allowed activists to focus their
critique not only on the health risks of the AFV, but also on
research ethics and the research framework that determined the
contraceptive design. While researchers claimed that the AFV
would offer a simple, low cost contraceptive option that would
be advantageous for widespread delivery (UNDP/UNFPA/WHO/World
Bank Special Programme of Research, Development and Research
Training in Human Reproduction 1992), activists argued that a
faulty research framework resulted in technologies that gave
the power of fertility control to health providers rather than
to women themselves (WGNRR 1993a). The character of this
contestation is demonstrated in Vaccination Against
Pregnancy: Miracle or Menace?, a book put out by
scientist-activist Judith Richter (1996), in which she
elaborates upon the “potential for abuse” of the
Anti-Fertility Vaccine. In other words, narrating the story
of the AFV became a deeply political act.
The AFV campaign is remembered among a range of activists with
whom I spoke as an exemplary moment of international
solidarity. Co-ordinated by the Women’s Global Network
for Reproductive Rights (WGNRR) in the Netherlands, the
campaign unified a range of women’s groups from a wide
range of places including Brazil, Canada, Zimbabwe, Germany and
India. The campaign officially began in June 1993 with an
International Action Workshop held in Germany. Representing
India at this workshop were the Bombay-based Forum for
Women’s Health (FFWH) and an autonomous local
women’s group stationed in Delhi, the Saheli
Women’s Resource Centre. The culmination of this workshop
was the drafting of a petition, “Call for a Halt to
Research on Antifertility ‘Vaccines’”, that
was sent to major funding and research organizations (WGNRR
1993a). By November 8, 1993, the petition had been signed by
232 groups from eighteen countries around the world, including
32 groups from India. Five years later, WGNRR reported that the
“Call for a Halt” had been endorsed by 487 groups
and 579 individuals from 41 countries (WGNRR 2001).
Despite the expansive international reach of the WGNRR
“Call for a Halt”, the agenda to stop research on
the AFV was distinct from that of another major group in the
International Women’s Health movement, the International
Women’s Health Coalition (IWHC). Members from the IWHC
and other international women’s health advocates aimed to
work together with the WHO to create “common
ground” on women’s health issues and the
development of reproductive and contraceptive technology
(WHO/HRP/ITT 1991). The WGNRR campaign against the AFV and
their strong stance against long-acting, provider-controlled
contraceptives has thus marked the WGNRR position as more
“radical” than the position of other
“moderate” international women’s health
advocates (Hardon 1997). While it has been argued that these
divisions served to strengthen the AFV campaign (Hardon 2006),
my analysis seeks to view these divisions in terms of competing
“internationalisms”. My aim is not to measure the
impact of the AFV campaign in terms of achieving its stated
goals but to try and understand how competing internationalisms
have contributed to the diverging feminisms that were evidenced
during my fieldwork in Australia and India.
Whilst the research framework of the AFV scientists has been
carefully scrutinised and deconstructed (Hardon 1997; Hardon
2006; Richter 1994; Richter 1996; Van Kammen 2000; Viswanath
and Kirbat 2000; WGNRR 1993a), the analytical frameworks
operating in the narratives of the AFV campaign have received
comparatively little attention. Anita Hardon (1997, 2006) an
anthropologist-activist involved in the AFV campaign, has
produced an analysis of the campaign from her central
standpoint as an “international” activist. However,
the analytical framework operating in Hardon’s conception
of the AFV controversy seems unable to fully capture the
perspective of the activists I met during my fieldwork in
Delhi. Hardon (2006:616) unreflexively uses her own perspective
on health and contraceptive technology as a reference point for
“shared solidarity” during the AFV campaign.
Viswanath and Kirbat (2000: 724) hint at a disjuncture between
the views of Indian activists and the international
activists’ perspectives on the AFV controversy, pointing
out that the Indian women’s groups were more critical of
the WHO research than were women’s health advocates
“in the west.” I would like to pursue this
disjuncture more fully. What does the AFV campaign look like
from the perspective of Indian women’s groups who were
deeply involved in the movement? How does their position as
part of the Indian women’s health movement predispose
them to conceive of “internationalisms” in the
context of the AFV campaign? More importantly, how does the
perspective of such groups illuminate the dominant forces that
structure Hardon’s perspective of the AFV campaign?
The distinctions between Hardon’s internationalism and
the internationalism of Indian women’s groups may seem
subtle compared to the chasm with which I opened the paper.
However, understanding the subtle distinctions in the
internationalisms of the AFV campaign is instructive for
uncovering the seemingly immovable stumbling blocks that
reproduce chasms in the field of women’s health politics,
chasms that prevent effective feminist solidarities. As I
travel between feminisms in Australia and India, I have used my
own mental stumbling blocks that arise from my standpoint as a
researcher from Australia as a guide for understanding how a
belief in one’s own cultural logic can blind one to the
ways in which such logic can reproduce inequalities, feminist
or otherwise. I begin the process of uncovering subtleties by
moving between Hardon’s “moderate”
internationalism to the “radical” internationalism
enunciated by Saheli activists who worked directly
with the WGNRR on the AFV campaign.
AFV Internationalisms
Today in India, the AFV is conspicuous for its absence on
women’s health radar. After nearly 3 decades of
scientific pursuit, AFV research activity seemed to dissolve in
the late 1990s. Talwar, the head of the Indian AFV research
team at the NII, has been quoted as saying, “our research
has been stopped by the women dictating… because they
were so persistent I got a low priority” (Hardon 1997:
75). Some activists question the logic of this statement,
pointing instead to the low efficacy of the AFV, which never
reached above the 80%-threshold in clinical trials. In any
case, the primary objective of the AFV campaign was to
“Call for a Halt” to research on the AFV. Therefore
the cessation of clinical trials for the AFV represented a
victory for activists and signalled that the AFV campaign could
also suspend its activities.
The space of almost ten years since the flurry of campaign
activities calling for a “halt” thus provides
activists with a measure of distance from the AFV campaign.
Both Hardon (2006) and Saheli (2006) reflect on the
campaign as a moment of successful international collaboration
but there are key differences in how they articulate
international solidarity. Hardon argues that the AFV campaign,
along with the broader campaign against hazardous
contraceptives, represented the successful merging of activists
from the ‘north’ and the ‘south’ on the
basis of a “collective oppositional identity”:
Each organization has its own collective identity,
relevant to the position of women and the specific
women’s health concerns that shape their lives. Through
international networking and common concerns, a movement
identity is forged, which is at stake in the controversies
around contraceptive technologies. Underlying the campaigns
in the domain of contraception is a basic solidarity identity
as healthy women, with shared health and reproductive
concerns and a common mistrust of population control efforts
by states. (Hardon 2006: 616)
Hardon’s efforts to synthesize a theoretical identity
that captures the “shared solidarity” engendered by
the AFV campaign are worthwhile. However, the identity of
“healthy women” with common concerns seems to boil
down the historical complexities of the campaign to the lowest
common denominator, instead of elucidating the creative ways in
which women’s activists of radically different
experiential backgrounds came together to co-ordinate their
response to the AFV. The deployment of “healthy” as
a representative marker of commonality seems to be an effort by
Hardon to distinguish the movement against hazardous
contraceptives in relation to other social movements involving
“patient groups” (Hardon 2006: 615). Yet deploying
this referential device also has the effect of overlooking
activisms within the movement that stem from a concern about
the impact of hazardous contraceptives in places where both
health care facilities and the health of women are less than
optimal (see for example Sathyamala 2000).
Further, when Hardon (2006: 616) gestures at the “common
mistrust of population control efforts by states,” she
glosses over the distinct histories of population control
measures, and the strategic critiques developed against the
coercive nature of these measures in places such as India. For
Delhi-based Saheli, the united front against
‘population control’ seems to mark the AFV
activities apart from those directed at other hazardous
contraceptives as a “truly international campaign”:
While the international women’s movement has always
been supportive of our efforts in campaigning against
hazardous contraceptives, they have not had to deal with the
problem of ‘overpopulation’, coercive population
control except with the ‘undesirable’ segments of
their population (blacks, Hispanics, mentally retarded etc.).
However, since developments on the AFV were taking place
simultaneously around the world, indeed India seemed to be
leading the pack, the response of the women’s movement
was also more synchronised. (Saheli 2006: 49)
From the point of view of Saheli activists,
internationalism is thus not based on a “collective
identity” but instead is viewed as the
‘synchronisation’ of multiple feminisms.
Synchronicity, in this instance, was achieved through
international developments that highlighted the issue of
“coercive population control”. The point I wish to
make is that the notion of a “synchronised”
women’s movement provides an expansive framework for
international feminist solidarity. Instead of reducing the
numerous AFV internationalisms into a “collective
oppositional identity” which only makes sense from the
standpoint of the centre, synchronicity acknowledges the
multiplicity of perspectives that exist alongside one another.
The key difference is that Hardon’s “collective
oppositional identity” subsumes competing
internationalisms by making a dominant claim to represent
the international, as though the central standpoint
was not a site of contestation itself. Hardon acknowledges the
divisions among “moderate” and
“radical” strands of the campaign, but claims that
these strengthened the movement against hazardous
contraceptives. In doing so, she fails to recognise that her
argument effectively erases the strategic critiques of other
internationalisms in the politics of women’s health.
What we glean from Saheli’s internationalism
that is not apparent from Hardon’s argument is that the
issue of overpopulation has been extremely divisive in the
realm of international women’s health. As one
Saheli activist shows, opposition to “population
control” is not a given in the world of international
activism:
Working with international activists is always a mixed
bag. One has to push for validation of a “Third
world” perspective in every campaign strategy. Western
women’s groups, with their focus on abortion rights and
“reproductive rights”… at first had a hard
time understanding the manner in which population control
policies operated on the ground. The realities of Indian
women were different. And then post-Cairo, the
“feminist population policy”… began to
also have an influence in India, and a lot of funding came to
groups that followed this “line”, thus diluting a
strong stand against all population policies, which by
definition can not be “feminist”. Yet, there were
also some radical women’s activists in international
networks, and it has been enriching working with them,
sharing information and strategising together.
(activist interview with author)
In this statement, the Saheli activist transports us
through numerous internationalisms, taking us beyond the AFV
campaign and into the broader political debates of the
international women’s health movement. She articulates
the political divide that separates an internationalism that
adopts an approach to women’s rights from within a
perspective of the need to control ‘population’,
and internationalism where ‘population’ policies
are viewed as the antithesis of feminist ideals. These
internationalisms are drawn roughly along the lines of
‘Western’/’Third World’ perspectives.
However, due to the fact that the “feminist population
policy” internationalism holds the power of funding,
these internationalisms are clearly not on an equal playing
field. Funding opportunities serve to marginalise the competing
internationalism “against all population policies”
that emerged from the standpoint of “the realities of
Indian women”. Thus, it is the power of capital, rather
than feminist principles, that encourages groups to adopt the
“feminist population policy” within the Indian
context. From the perspective of the Saheli activist,
we begin to understand how broader inequalities operate within
the diverging perspectives on ‘population’ that I
encountered in my fieldwork.
Internationalism from the Standpoint of the Indian
Women’s Health Movement
In order to better understand the Saheli standpoint on
feminism and population control, I would like to consider how
this internationalism resonates with the strategic critique of
family planning developed within the Indian women’s
health movement. The critique of population control measures
and coercive family planning policies has been a defining
feature of the Indian women’s health movement since its
inception in the 1970s (Viswanath 2001, Ram forthcoming). This
critique has aimed to puncture the smooth logic that supports
the ‘myth’ of population control (for a recent
in-depth example of this see Rao (2004)), a centrepiece of the
WGNRR co-ordinated AFV campaign narratives. As well as
challenging the logic of population control, this critique also
shatters the myths of modernity, as shown by Viswanath:
In the dominant discourse, India is seen as having too
many people, and too many poor people at that. Controlling
our population is prescribed as a national duty, which
unfortunately the poor and marginalised peoples are not
performing. The middle and upper class are presented as the
beneficiaries of the gains of smaller families. The official
propaganda is that the fewer children you have, the happier
and wealthier you will be. But if the spoils of modernity are
so clear and linear, why isn’t everyone running after
them? (Viswanath 2001)
In this way, the Indian women’s health movement has
performed a kind of ‘watchdog’ role, calling
attention to what Ram (forthcoming) terms the “silent
practices” of state population policy. Based on the
philosophical underpinning of a left agenda (Kumar 1995) that
envisages a wider vision of social justice, this feminist
critique has scrutinised the Indian state’s commitment to
the liberal democratic values of choice and rights in the
context of the implementation of the family planning policies.
Ram describes this as a strategy in which the falsehoods of the
state’s liberalist rubric are revealed through a critique
that demonstrates that state family planning policy unevenly
pushes a restricted range of contraceptive
“choices” along the lines of both gender and class.
The coercive nature of these “choices” has been
well documented (Vicziany 1982-3; Tarlo 2003; Van Hollen 2003)
and persists in both public and private hospitals in spite of
efforts to introduce ‘informed consent’ procedures
for sterilisation (Rajalakshmi 2007a; Rajalakshmi 2007b). In
her ethnographic exploration of the Emergency Period of
1975-77, Emma Tarlo (2003) has described the family planning
drive as operating “less through physical coercion, than
through inviting participation in a particular kind of deal in
which human infertility was traded off against a whole range of
basic amenities” (Tarlo 2003: 145). Whilst Tarlo is
attempting to capture the “ethos” of the State
policies that characterised the Emergency, the critiques
developed by the Indian women’s movement show that the
spirit of this “ethos” has continued long after
democratic rule returned to India in 1977.
These feminist critiques are more than just an interrogation of
the state’s coercive practices. They serve to challenge
the patriarchal discourses engendered in the state population
policy that exclusively views women in terms of their maternal
reproductive roles as well as the discourse of
modernity in which liberal notions of ‘choice’
clash with a development agenda that seeks to control
population through controlling poor women’s bodies (Ram
1998a; Ram 1998b; Viswanath 2001). Feminism in this context
sees patriarchy and modernity as intertwined forms of
oppression that are manifest in the population control agenda.
From this standpoint, women - particularly those who are poor
and marginalised - stand doubly oppressed by an
internationalism that pursues population control.
Dominant Internationalism in the Politics of
Women’s Health
Armed with a better understanding of the standpoint from which
the Saheli perspective on internationalism emanates,
we can now return to the debates within the field of
international women’s health with fresh eyes. To
reiterate, the “strong stand” of Saheli
activists “against all population policies” was
also adopted by the WGNRR agenda in the AFV campaign, enabling
a “synchronised” internationalism in the
women’s movement. However, alternative internationalisms
were also operating in the sphere of international
women’s health politics during the AFV campaign. Those
subscribing to an internationalism that was grounded in a
“feminist population policy” appear to have been
genuinely confounded by the strong opposition to population
policies.
From the standpoint of the centre, international women’s
health advocates became frustrated by the WGNRR resistance to
the AFV on the grounds of staunch opposition to population
control. Marge Berer, a prominent figure in the international
women’s health movement, argued for “a more
realistic and broader attitude toward existing methods of birth
control.” She urged feminists to acknowledge “the
world cannot sustain an unlimited number of people, just as
women’s bodies cannot sustain unlimited
pregnancies… we have a responsibility to define what a
good population policy is” (Berer 1991, cited in Cohen
1993: 64). In the context of the AFV campaign, Hardon (1997)
also grappled with the “radical” nature of the
WGNRR demands, and questioned the claims of women’s
health activists to “represent the majority of users in
an unbiased manner”. She cites the WGNRR postcard
campaign as evidence of this:
In early 1996, an informal telephone conversation took
place between Beatrys Stemerding at WGNRR and Griffin
(head of WHO taskforce) at HRP, in which he
reportedly said that the Human Reproduction Programme would
consider stopping research on the anti-hCG vaccine if it were
shown in an unbiased manner that 'the majority of potential
users would not want the method'. In response, the 'Call for
a Stop' campaign launched an international postcard action.
The postcards were addressed personally to Griffin at HRP,
and state:
'I do not support the development of immunological
contraceptives. Women and men alike need contraceptives that
enable them to exercise greater control over their own
fertility, without sacrificing their integrity, their health,
or their well-being. In addition, the potential for abuse is
simply too great with immunological contraceptives, which
could easily become tools for population control.'
(Stemerding, 1996, cited in Hardon 1997: 76)
Hardon argues that focus group studies presented to the WHO/HRP
show that women from numerous countries are dissatisfied with
existing methods of contraception, and goes on to say:
Based on longstanding concerns about the history of
eugenic abuse and coercive population programmes, and coming
largely from positions of opposition to all long-acting
contraceptives which depend on provider delivery, the views
of the women's health advocates calling for a stop to the
research will not easily be changed. Their radical opposition
has had adverse effects, in my view, as it has also prevented
more constructive dialogue between these women's health
advocates and researchers on the design of clinical trials of
safety and efficacy, and criteria used to determine
acceptability to users. (Hardon 1997: 77)
I cite these reflections from Hardon because they concisely
demonstrate the locus of the chasm that divides the
internationalisms operating in the AFV campaign narratives. In
order to counter the “radical” claims of the WGNRR
postcard campaign to “represent the majority of users in
an unbiased manner”, Hardon presents her argument as the
rational alternative. She weighs the evidence of WHO/HRP focus
group studies against the “longstanding concerns about
the history of eugenic abuse and coercive population
programmes” and the latter emerge as stultified and
unable to overcome bias. Her own view, which serves as the
referent for this alternative perspective, is presented as
untainted with bias and in clear favour of the needs of the
“majority” of users.
The rational aura of Hardon’s internationalism in this
instance is highly persuasive from the standpoint of a liberal
choice perspective. So much so, that the power relations
involved in laying claims to the representation the
“majority of users,” as well as the subordination
of concerns about “eugenic abuse and coercive population
programmes,” are barely perceptible. However, if we
consider Mohanty’s warning of how “the West is
inside and continually reconfigures globally, racially, and in
terms of gender,” and examine Hardon’s argument in
terms of the strategic critiques developed by the Indian
women’s health movement, the relations of inequality
become more apparent. Just as WGNRR activists cannot literally
gauge the needs of the “majority of users”, nor can
focus group studies from several countries capture the
structural inequalities that constrain the choices of women in
poor, marginalised communities. Saheli reinforce this
point in their discussion of Reproductive Rights in the
Indian Context:
In a situation where women have no ‘right’ to
clean drinking water, basic facilities, health care or
education; where society decides where women will live, how
they will live (and often, how they will die), who they will
marry, whether they will study; where the State (and
international development and aid agencies) believe they have
the ‘right’ to determine how many children women
will bear, when they will get sterilised and what form of
contraception women must ‘opt’ for; it is
apparent that the struggle for Indian women’s
reproductive rights needs to go further than reproductive
freedom, and enter the arena of social, economic and
political rights (Saheli 2001: 1).
Thus, to view the needs of the “majority of users,”
purely in terms of desires for additional methods to control
reproduction, as measured by focus group studies, is to view
these ‘users’ in a reproductive vacuum, ignoring a
broad range of other ‘rights’ denied to women such
as those described by Saheli.
In order to more fully grasp the difference between
Hardon’s perspective and the perspective of
Saheli, I return to the notion of standpoint.
In light of Mohanty’s argument that the standpoint of
“marginalised communities” provides the potential
for an “analytic anchor” from which to build an
inclusive activist project, Hardon’s argument appears to
contain its own exclusionary biases. As Hardon lays claim to
the needs of the “majority of users”, she builds
her analytical framework on the AFV from the standpoint of
“the user’s perspective” on contraceptive
needs. We are not given the socio-economic profile of the users
in the focus group studies, because this information is
irrelevant to the synthesis of Hardon’s critique of the
WGNRR postcard campaign and “radical” opposition to
the AFV. Saheli’s argument on reproductive
rights on the other hand, is built upon a standpoint that
begins from those women who lack the most basic of life’s
necessities. From this standpoint, concerns about
“eugenic abuse and coercive population programmes”
are based on an analytic framework that considers the use of
the AFV in the context of marginalised communities. In
contrast, Hardon’s politically potent claims to
“the majority of users” shore up her argument for
an internationalism that remains indifferent to the social,
economic and political inequalities which continue to structure
the nature of ‘choice’. In so doing, she serves to
reinforce these inequalities by invoking politically dominant
notions of liberal choice that circumvent the critiques made by
alternative, inclusive agendas for internationalism.
Conclusion
In exploring the AFV internationalisms, I have focused my
critique on the internationalism elicited by Hardon’s
reflections on the AFV campaign. This is partly because her
arguments enjoy a virtual monopoly in the international
academic literature on the campaign. It is also because her
arguments are highly persuasive unless they are examined from
the perspective of larger structural inequalities. Her
arguments draw their persuasiveness from the liberal
‘choice’ philosophy that maintains political
dominance in the field of women’s health politics, and
sidesteps a whole range of problems entailed in the provision
of health-care technologies among marginalised communities in
places such as India. This dominant internationalism is
bolstered through the funding capacities of the international
institutions from which it emanates. By making claims to
represent the international, Hardon and the dominant
internationalism proceed from an analytical framework that
undercuts potentially inclusive paradigms for synchronising
women’s health activism in the international field of
politics.
There are numerous ethnographic facets of the AFV campaign
that are beyond the scope of this paper, but are equally
important in contributing to a more inclusive story of the
vibrant political activism involved. The ways in which the
WGNRR campaign was able to strategically synchronise numerous
international activists is just one. Moreover, I have not
explored the heterogeneity of the Indian women’s health
movement in relation to the AFV campaign specifically, and
the International Women’s Health Movement more
generally. In this sense, I have articulated but one of
numerous internationalisms that operate within India
concerning such issues. However, in the space provided here,
I have aimed to construct an argument about the manner in
which claims to representation of women are made in the field
of women’s health politics. I have argued that the
manner in which these claims are made is at least as
important as the claims to represent
‘women’s’ perspectives. When Hardon (2006:
625) concludes her reflections on the campaign against
hazardous contraceptives, she notes the success of the
movement in achieving a “reproductive choice”
agenda, “at least on paper”. My argument has
sought to make some headway in demonstrating why this agenda
exists more on paper than in practice.
As my fieldwork experiences show, the shift away from a
‘population’ agenda may have occurred in official
discourse but demographic logic still holds considerable sway
among feminisms that have the capacity to influence funding
priorities. A lack of understanding of the nature of the chasm
that exists in international women’s health politics
enables the perpetuation of inequalities in the political
field, the effects of which continue to play out among the more
marginalised communities of women. Faulty analytic frames in
the sphere of international women’s health politics have
seen certain dominant versions of internationalism
circumventing rather than addressing issues raised by
alternative, inclusive internationalisms. It is imperative that
we uncover the philosophical standpoints that structure these
distinctive internationalisms if we are to see how hegemonic
conceptions of liberal rationalist choice can be used to
marginalise political strategies for a potentially broader
vision of social justice. It is only from this basis that the
‘international’ in the women’s health
movement can move forward in a meaningful way.
|