The debate surrounding abortion is often contaminated by emotion, private morality, and false symmetries. One of the most persistent is the idea that, because a man is the biological father, he should have legal influence over the decision to terminate a pregnancy. At first glance, the proposal may appear reasonable and “balanced.” In reality, it is conceptually flawed and politically dangerous.
In a liberal state — and even more so in a coherent liberal state — the law does not exist to distribute moral comfort, but to delimit responsibilities and protect individual autonomy. It is precisely here that the thesis of male legal influence collapses.
Pregnancy is neither an abstract nor a symmetrical phenomenon. It is a physical, biological, and psychological process that takes place in a single body. That body bears the medical risk, the irreversible disruption of daily life, the limitation of autonomy for months, and often permanent consequences. No legal construction can dilute this fact. When the law attempts to do so, it is not being fair; it is being artificial.
To say that the man “must be heard” in law is more than a symbolic gesture. It is to introduce the State into an intimate decision, creating indirect legal pressure on the person who bears the real burden of pregnancy. Even without a formal veto, mandatory consultation transforms an individual choice into a mediated process, vulnerable to delay, emotional coercion, blackmail, or simple psychological exhaustion. In doing so, the law ceases to protect freedom and begins to administer morality.
At this point, an essential distinction must be made — one that is often ignored:
having an opinion is not the same as having legal relevance.
In the private sphere, a man may — and ideally should — be heard. Dialogue, empathy, and moral responsibility belong to the relationship between adults. But the law does not exist to guarantee difficult conversations or to validate feelings. It exists to establish who decides when interests come into conflict. And in this specific conflict, only one party is physically implicated in a total and non-transferable way.
A civic and liberal state treats citizens as individuals before the law, not as extensions of one another. By granting legal influence to a man over the decision to abort, the State implicitly asserts that a woman is not fully sovereign over her own body. It creates a dangerous exception to the principle of bodily autonomy — a principle that underpins the entire architecture of modern civil rights.
The argument that “both created the life” confuses biology with governance. Causal participation does not automatically generate decision-making authority. If it did, we would be forced to accept legal influence in countless bodily decisions where emotional or relational impact exists — a path that quickly leads to generalized tutelage.
From the perspective of civic ordoliberalism, the error is twofold. First, the State oversteps its role as a neutral arbiter, entering the moral management of private life. Second, it creates a rule that cannot be applied without asymmetry, arbitrariness, or abuse. Laws that depend on the “good faith” of personal relationships are bad laws.
To defend that the decision belongs to the woman — and to the woman alone — is neither an attack on fatherhood nor a dismissal of the male bond. It is the recognition of a clear legal boundary. Male responsibility begins earlier (through prevention) and continues later (through support, if the pregnancy proceeds). But it does not include juridical power over another person’s body.
In serious liberalism, rights are not balanced through symbolic concessions. They are respected as a matter of principle. And the principle here is simple, even if uncomfortable:
the person who fully bears the bodily cost of pregnancy must fully hold the legal decision.
Everything else belongs to personal ethics — not to the legal code.
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