That's the trouble with this country's absurdly-polarized abortion debate. In the absence of any real prospect of overturning Roe v. Wade, the anti-abortion movement has turned to various end-run ideas. They've cut federal funding for abortion except in the case of rape, incest, or endangerment of the mother, yet abortions persist. They've tried outlawing abortion in backhanded ways, but even Mississippi wouldn't pass a ballot measure to give a fetus the legal rights of a person.
And so they've increasingly gone after the nation's largest abortion provider. Republicans in Congress have tried, and failed, to cut the group's federal funding entirely. Renegade crusaders have launched sting operations: a year ago, amateur cameras caught a New Jersey Planned Parenthood worker on camera, advising a man who was posing as a pimp.
That woman was fired and the moment passed, but the enemies were clearly emboldened. Last fall, Rep. Cliff Stearns, a Republican from Florida, launched a highly dubious investigation into whether Planned Parenthood was misusing public funds. Komen changed its rules to say it wouldn't give grants to groups under formal investigation — allowing Komen's CEO to insist, this week, that "we will never bow to political pressure."
Even abortion opponents didn't buy that line; they praised Komen up and down the Internet, precisely for bowing to the pressure they've exerted. In the process, wound up hurting their own cause.
Lack of forthrightness doesn't do Komen much good, especially since it comes after a string of self-inflicted public relations wounds. Half the country howled with laughter after Komen sponsored pink boxes of KFC fried chicken. More recently, the advocacy group Breast Cancer Action slammed Komen for commissioning a perfume, "Promise Me," that contains chemicals that have been linked to cancer.
