Criminalisation of abortion prior to 1990 in Belgium: towards recognition of ‘harm’?
The Belgian Federal Parliament is currently considering a draft resolution aimed at recognising the harm suffered by individuals convicted under criminal provisions criminalising abortion prior to its partial decriminalisation” in 1990. Tabled by several socialist MPs and presented as the first step towards historical recognition, this initiative nevertheless calls for a careful examination of its foundations, its assumptions and its implications, both for understanding the past and for current debates.
The explanatory memorandum to the draft resolution – which does not have the binding force of a law – is based on the idea that abortion constitutes a ‘fundamental right’, falling primarily within the remit of public health. However, whilst this approach reflects a societal view held by some (it should be noted that abortion is not currently recognised as a fundamental right under Belgian or European law), it tends to oversimplify a far more complex reality. Abortion is not a medical procedure like any other: it involves ending a human life in the making. As such, it inevitably raises ethical, anthropological and social dimensions that cannot be dismissed in favour of an interpretation focused exclusively on individual autonomy.
A partial interpretation of past convictions
The proposal aims to recognise past convictions as infringements “on the protection of women’s health, sexual and reproductive autonomy, equality between women and men, women’s rights and the right to privacy” (point 1.1). However, this interpretation appears partial, insofar as it fails to take into account the objectives pursued by the legislature at the time, which already included the desire to protect prenatal life. In other words, the legal norms of the past were not simply driven by a logic of oppression, but by an attempt to arbitrate between conflicting interests.
Furthermore, the text does not sufficiently distinguish between the very different situations of the individuals concerned: on the one hand, women who had recourse to abortion, for whom punishment now appears difficult to justify; on the other hand, those who performed these abortions, whose responsibility and motivations could vary. It is particularly worth noting that certain practices may have been part of a system of exploitation, with some individuals deriving financial gain from women’s vulnerability.
It is precisely this complexity that the motion for a resolution seeks to simplify. By acknowledging harm exclusively on the part of the women and the practitioners who were convicted, it establishes a form of moral asymmetry: the suffering associated with legal proceedings is acknowledged, but the reality of the life that was taken is never mentioned. Such an omission is not insignificant. It contributes to reducing the debate to a single dimension, whereas any reflection on abortion necessarily involves at least two human realities.
Furthermore, the approach raises a delicate question: can we judge the past solely by today’s standards? The proposal appears to undertake a normative reinterpretation of history, implicitly assuming that the old laws were unjust in themselves. Yet societies have long attached value to embryonic and foetal life – and this debate remains open even today. Unilateral institutional recognition thus risks cementing a particular interpretation of this issue, to the detriment of the ethical pluralism that is essential when dealing with such matters.
A text with implications for contemporary debates
Beyond its focus on the past, the text also seeks to influence contemporary debates on the legislative framework governing the practice of abortion. By equating any restriction on abortion with ‘prejudice’, it tends to present this practice as an indisputable right, the limits of which would be inherently unjust. In this regard, the very choice of the term ‘prejudice’ is not neutral: in France, in the legislation adopted on the same subject on 29 December 2025, the legislature preferred to recognise ‘suffering’ without using the concept of prejudice, so as not to open the door to a logic of financial compensation.
Furthermore, the reality experienced by many women today remains complex. Abortion is often subject to pressures – social, economic or relational – that are frequently subtle and can leave lasting scars. Reducing it to the exercise of a right risks rendering these experiences invisible and hindering prevention and support policies.
Towards a more comprehensive and preventive approach
Recognising the suffering of the past requires doing so with caution and discernment. Such an approach cannot avoid taking a balanced view of the various dimensions at play. Rather than pitting interests against one another, it is possible to promote a more comprehensive approach: supporting women facing difficult pregnancies, developing concrete alternatives to abortion, and reaffirming that all human life deserves attention and protection.
Ultimately, the real question is perhaps not merely how to judge the past through an amnesty process, but how best to support the present. A society that cares for both women and unborn life does not merely pass symbolic judgements: above all, it strives to prevent situations of distress by offering humane, supportive and responsible solutions.
The Justice Committee of the Federal Parliament will examine this text in the coming weeks, notably through the holding of hearings.