In states like California, Ohio and Michigan, abortion rights advocates are undefeated, using ballot measures to ensure constitutional access to the procedure.
But their approach will face perhaps its toughest test yet in Arkansas, a state with a near-total ban on abortion and where conservative and evangelical values are deeply rooted. A victory here could highlight how messed up abortion policy has become since the Supreme Court ruled on Roe v. Wade fell. A loss would highlight the limits of his appeal.
“It would be a jewel in their crown if they eliminated Arkansas,” said state Sen. Kim Hammer, a Republican and outspoken opponent of abortion.
Organizers have until Friday to collect enough signatures to get their initiative on the November ballot and are optimistic about at least clearing that first hurdle. They argue that the current law’s lack of exceptions – it only allows an abortion to save a pregnant woman’s life in a medical emergency – and the precarious legal landscape for doctors will be enough to build a bipartisan coalition.
The campaign is about “sending the message that Arkansas is worth fighting for,” said Marlee Stark, a volunteer, and “that we are not doomed to remain at the bottom of every quality of life indicator.”
But polls also show that Arkansas is one of only five states where only a minority believes abortion should be legal in all or most cases. In Little Rock, the state government is overseeing construction of a “Monument to the Unborn” to mark the end of Roe and plans to install thousands of plants on a living wall at the state Capitol.
And while volunteers have gathered across the state to collect signatures, those opposed to the measure have also mobilized, including some of Gov. Sarah Huckabee Sanders’ top aides, some of whom have left the governor’s office, for outside efforts to ensure that the measure fails.
Decades earlier, conservatives like Jerry Cox used the same ballot initiative process to eliminate access to abortion in the state, proposing to prevent public money from going to abortion.
“We have woven a lot of pro-life threads into the tapestry of the state,” Mr. Cox, president of the Family Council of Arkansas, said in an interview. Above his desk hung pins on a map of Arkansas, marking where paid canvassers had collected signatures. But he added of supporters of the new ballot measure: “You have to take it very, very seriously. They will fight to the bitter end.”
“That’s exactly what we did,” he continued. “I know what can be done when you have a small group of highly committed people.”
If enough signatures are collected for the initiative, Arkansas would join at least four other states that are putting such a question on the ballot this fall. Nevada’s secretary of state confirmed a similar initiative for the November ballot on Sunday, while groups in Arizona and Nebraska also face deadlines this week.
But unlike Arizona or Nevada, Arkansas is not considered a battleground for the presidential or Senate elections, which could otherwise galvanize voters or outside support. National abortion rights groups have not openly supported the effort. And even if there are enough signatures, legal challenges are possible.
Organizers, many unpaid volunteers, must collect 90,704 signatures — 10 percent of the votes cast in the 2022 gubernatorial election — and have them certified by the secretary of state to place the initiative on the ballot. A new measure recently passed by the state’s Republican-led Legislature also requires at least 50 of the state’s 75 counties to meet a certain minimum, more than double a previous requirement.
Proponents of the ballot measure estimated Monday that they needed at least 10,000 more signatures to comfortably meet the requirement, and they sent volunteers to round out the few counties that still needed signatures. However, taking part in the ballot does not guarantee that a majority of voters will approve the measure in November.
“If this gets on the ballot and 60 percent of people say don’t allow anyone to have an abortion, then I’m going to say, ‘Okay, we need to recalibrate and figure out what’s next,'” Sara Putman said. 46, who hosted a book signing at her independent bookstore in Fort Smith, near the Oklahoma state line. “But I just don’t think the numbers show that.”
Supporters have banded together under the name Arkansans for Limited Government to appeal to the state’s libertarians and centrists. Their proposed change — legal language already approved by the Republican attorney general — won’t go as far as other states.
The amendment would allow abortions up to 18 weeks after fertilization, rather than the 24 weeks used in most other ballot initiatives. In addition, exceptions would be added for rape, incest or the fetus failing to survive outside the uterus, and the existing exception for the health of a pregnant woman would be expanded. Organizers said this would cover most abortions previously performed in the state.
Critics of the measure argue that the amendment’s language is misleadingly broad, particularly with regard to exemptions, and brand it an extreme change. (In 2019, Arkansas passed a law that would ban abortions after 18 weeks.)
And even as it was being signed, some abortion rights advocates said the measure didn’t go far enough.
“I wish it would go further,” said Gabrielle Sandoval, 27, after signing the petition at a Pride celebration in Little Rock. But she added: “It’s a good step towards change.”
Advertisers said it can be difficult to broach the issue of abortion with strangers in this corner of the South. There are fears the signing could lead to personal or professional backlash.
“I’ll start with the hard question, the abortion question,” Raymond Whiteside said as he waited with petitions for several ballot initiatives outside an evening town hall meeting in West Memphis, just across the street from Tennessee.
While he collected a few signatures, many people politely rejected him. Sometimes, other volunteers reported, people returned alone to sign. Some said they were driven by a desire for more exemptions under the law or by unease with the government setting limits on health care.
At times, exchanges with counter-demonstrators or critics escalated into threats, activists said. In June, the family council released the names of paid canvassers it obtained under the public records law, raising fears of personal or professional retaliation.
The effort has also empowered new types of volunteers, including obstetricians frustrated by the legal quagmire, women who previously had abortions, retirees who remember receiving the right granted by Roe, and young women angry are about not having it anymore.
“That’s not me. I’m an introvert,” said Norma Smith, 69, a former obstetrician in Fort Smith. Collecting signatures, she said, “makes you feel like you’re doing something.”
They’ve lined up next to food truck rallies and festivals, and even moved among the crowds that gathered for Hot Springs’ annual bathtub races, a local tradition in which teams roll sloshing bathtubs down Central Avenue.
On the sidelines of the race, Ted Harps said he was excited about former President Donald J. Trump’s ambitions to return to the White House. But Mr. Harps, a retired AT&T technician, took a minute to sign the petition because he said Arkansas had gone too far with its abortion ban.
“It’s between you and your God what you want to do,” said Mr. Harps, 66. He added: “It’s none of my business – you guys, the women take care of it.”
Elizabeth Dias contributed reporting.
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2024-07-01 20:49:26
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