Pakistan faces 'womanless' future

SKEWED GENDER RATIO: As a result of sex-selective abortions, there are 105.7 boys born for every 100 girls in Pakistan.


    Jul 02, 2015

    Pakistan faces 'womanless' future

    NEARLY every woman in Pakistan has witnessed or experienced it herself. A woman, an aunt or a sister becomes pregnant. If she has daughters, or even if she does not, the hope is for a boy. From the prayers of old ladies bestowed on the woman to the vocalised aspirations of all relatives, the hope, the desire, the goal is for a boy.

    For all but a few families, therefore, the birth of a girl is a loss.

    Given the dynamics of shame in the country, some cover this up with forced smiles and platitudes; others visibly mourn and mope. The numbers testify to the reality: 105.7 boys born for every 100 girls.

    In parts of the world where such prejudice does not exist, the natural ratio, so to speak, is usually about 50:50. Expanded into millions, it becomes a huge gap between men and women.

    It was only a matter of time before technology was put into the service of patriarchy. According to the Population Research Institute, which calls itself a non-profit research group and collects data on sex-selective abortion, over 1.2 million female foetuses were aborted in Pakistan between 2000 and last year. The yearly average of sex-selective abortions is 116,384.

    The numbers are reportedly trumped only by China and India, both of which have significantly larger populations than Pakistan, and they see around 800,000 and 600,000 sex-selective abortions respectively every year. The figures are calculated using census numbers and life expectancy, and then projecting the natural ratio and noting the disparity between what should be and what is.

    These estimates may be surprising to some, at least in this sort of public presentation. Reproductive health is in itself a loaded issue in Pakistan, where fertility and a woman's ability to give birth - and give birth to a son - have huge impact on the quality of her life.

    In private, reproductive healthcare professionals tell of the onerous professional decisions they face when confronted with infertility issues. Women, afraid of losing their marriages, will often beg their doctors to keep information from their in-laws. In sum, the issue of a woman's ability to bear children is a fraught one.

    With so much riding on the ability and possibility of a woman bearing a child, it is unsurprising that, even in educated families, misinformation and secrecy reign.

    Abortion for any reason is a taboo subject, with no statistics available as to who, why or when abortions are necessitated and what sort of care is available to women who have them.

    Given the rest of Pakistan's dismal numbers on maternal health (the majority of poor women have virtually no access to healthcare) and the deplorable mix of coercion and abuse that hounds most women, it can safely be assumed that most who undergo abortions do so in secrecy, with a good number perishing in the process. Life in general is cheap in Pakistan, and women's lives even cheaper.

    Numbers, however, do not lie. Sex-selective abortions, where parents discover the gender of a foetus and then abort it, are obviously happening in Pakistan and at a rate higher than in Vietnam, Malaysia, Azerbaijan and elsewhere.




    Nor is there any hope, it seems. With girls being married off at younger ages (half of married women between the ages of 20 and 24 were married before they were even 18), little training for those providing reproductive health services, and coercive in-laws and husbands wanting sons at any cost, the number of these abortions will most likely rise.

    The high cost of raising children, expected only to get higher, is likely to facilitate its popularity; the country's increasingly urban character will add to it. After all, boys are investments with rates of return; girls, we are told, are always liabilities.

    Normally, the ever-vigilant religious vanguard of Pakistani society would rise up and rant against the killing of the unborn; but patriarchy, it seems, silences even the most pious and the issue of saving unborn girls does not appear on their agenda.

    Should we feel sorry for the 1.2 million gone girls of Pakistan, the ones who were killed before they ever had a chance to live? Instinct and empathy would say yes; a chance at life is, after all, a chance at change, at making something of oneself, at a future. This sort of wish, however, aligns poorly with the realities of Pakistani society.

    As a large number of Pakistan's unborn girls continue to be eliminated soon after they make their first appearances on an ultrasound monitor, as the number of gone girls rises from the hundreds of thousands a year to the millions, the men may notice.




    Future generations could see a Pakistan transformed from one where women are increasingly banished and invisible, to one where women are simply not there any more.

    If the level of misogyny regularly witnessed in the pages of newspapers, the murders and kidnappings, the discrimination and abuse are any indication, then it seems that the numbers of women could dwindle further.

    This "womanless" world, one that the country's men seem to want to create, by harassing and constraining, banning and eliminating, raping and disrespecting, would be a good fate for them.

    Those who plan and plot and kill girls before they are born, who imagine their hushed act as having no consequences, would face the collective catastrophe brought on by a million others who thought the same.

    In the meantime, many unborn girls of Pakistan are at risk or probably, gone girls.


    The writer is an attorney teaching constitutional law and political philosophy.