No one was watching the Pensacola trial more attentively than those whom Hill describes as evil. Abortion providers, always a small and beleaguered group, have grown more apprehensive since the murders of Britton and David Gunn, the abortion doctor slan in Pensacola last year. Many lament that fewer young doctors have been willing to perform abortions, partly out of fear. But those who are left are more convinced than ever that what they’re doing is deeply, morally correct. Some are guided by religious beliefs they say are no less profound than those of the pro-life activists. “What is outrageous is that [the anti-abortion protesters] portray theirs as the only religious position,” says Curtis Boyd, a Texas abortion doctor and former Unitarian minister. “You can be deeply religious and perform abortion services. I perform abortions because of my religion.” Dr. James Armstrong, who does abortions in Kalispell, Mont., and is the son and grandson of Presbyterian ministers, says of Hill: “He figures he has the only correct pipeline to God … That would have to be his own interpretation.”
The zeal of many abortion doctors matches that of their fundamentalist foes. Even doctors who aren’t churchgoers often have a missionary sense about their work. Suzanne Poppema, a Seattle abortion doctor, declares that “Every day I feel I’ve made a small difference in the world.” Warren Hern, an abortion doctor in Boulder, Colo., believes he is “doing something very important for the cause of human freedom.” At a recent National Abortion Federation meeting, members came out of a post-Pensacola strategy session crying, hugging each other and vowing to carry on. “There are a lot of parallels between my church and this group of abortion doctors,” says NAF member Dennis Christensen, who’s been singing in the Methodist church choir in Madison, Wis., for 15 years. “It’s two things: the moral code and the feeling of community.”
Religious abortion doctors want more support from their clergy. Dr. Boyd is often asked by Native American women to bless the aborted ferns, and by Roman Catholic women to baptize it, He proposes that schools of theology develop special ceremonies and prayers to mark the loss era lotus. Thirty-eight religious groups belong to the Religious Coalition for Reproductive Choice, and in the wake of Pensacola, clergymen are increasingly ready to condemn violence against abortion doctors. Ann Thompson Cook, the coalition’s executive director, compares her crusade to the AIDS-awareness campaign Silence Equals Death. When she asks groups of abortion doctors how many of them have been assaulted by religious people, all the hands go up. When she asks how many get support from religious leaders in their community, two thirds of the hands go down. No wonder Paul Hill thinks God is with him.
