There is a particular irony in watching a woman use the freedoms feminism fought to secure to explain why feminism has failed women.

DISCLAIMER: I have referred to the victim of domestic abuse as the "mother" and used she/her pronouns throughout this article. This is not to suggest that men cannot be victims of domestic abuse, nor that their experiences are any less valid. They absolutely can, and they are not. However, women are statistically more likely to be victims of domestic abuse and the consequences of such abuse tends to be more severe.  My use of female pronouns reflects the particular gendered experience of domestic abuse that this article seeks to examine; it is not intended to erase or diminish male victims.

There is a particular cruelty in telling a woman that she has a legal right to end her pregnancy while maintaining a healthcare system in which another person's conscience may stand between her and the exercise of that right. In Wales, that contradiction is no longer merely theoretical. As Laura Butler and Kate Morgan have reported, as seen on BBC, women are travelling from Wales to London to obtain surgical abortions because of inadequate provision at home, with clinicians raising concerns about the consequences of limited access. The existence of a statutory right to conscientious objection is therefore colliding with a much more fundamental question: what happens when the exercise of one person's conscience prevents another person from obtaining time-sensitive medical care?

The Court of Appeal's decision in R v X Y Z (2026) should never have been necessary.

Abortion remains one of the most contested moral, legal, and philosophical issues within contemporary society. Despite significant legal reform across many jurisdictions, debates surrounding abortion continue to expose fundamental disagreements regarding bodily autonomy, personhood, the moral status of the foetus, gender equality, and the relationship between law and morality. The philosophy of abortion is therefore not confined to a single ethical question of whether abortion is morally permissible; rather, it requires an interdisciplinary examination of how societies construct concepts of life, responsibility, rights, and justice. Legal frameworks surrounding abortion represent competing philosophical assumptions about whose interests should be prioritised, how individual autonomy should be protected, and the extent to which personal morality should influence state regulation. Historically, abortion has occupied a complex position between criminal law, religious doctrine, medicine, and human rights. In many pre-modern societies, abortion was approached pragmatically and was not consistently subject to legal prohibition. However, the increasing influence of Christian theology in Europe contributed to the development of moral frameworks that emphasised the sanctity of life and positioned abortion as a moral and legal wrong (Yarmohammadi, 2013). In contrast, feminist movements from the twentieth century onwards reframed abortion as an issue of equality and bodily autonomy, arguing that control over reproduction is fundamental to an individual’s ability to participate fully within social, economic, and political life (Roberts, 1997). These competing perspectives continue to influence modern abortion debates, demonstrating that legal regulation is not merely a technical process but a reflection of deeper philosophical conflicts.

Rape has traditionally been examined through the disciplines of criminal law, criminology, psychology and sociology. Legal scholarship has largely focused upon statutory interpretation, evidential requirements and procedural fairness, whilst criminological research has sought to explain patterns of offending, victimisation and prevention. Although these approaches are indispensable to understanding sexual violence, they often presuppose rather than interrogate the fundamental nature of rape itself. Philosophy offers a different mode of enquiry. Rather than asking how rape should be prosecuted or why individuals offend, philosophy asks what rape is, how we know that it has occurred, why it is morally wrong, and how cultural representations shape its social meaning.

Since the Taliban’s return to power in Afghanistan in August 2021, the status of women’s rights has undergone a dramatic reversal. After two decades of gradual progress following the fall of the first Taliban regime in 2001, Afghan women and girls have experienced one of the world’s most severe human rights crises. Restrictions on education, employment, movement, healthcare access, and participation in public life have transformed women’s legal and social position, with international organisations increasingly describing the situation as a system of institutionalised gender discrimination.

Within the framework of child protection law in England and Wales, Section 20 of the Children Act 1989 occupies a unique space. It is intended to be a cooperative, voluntary arrangement, one that allows local authorities to accommodate children with parental consent, without the need for an Interim Care Order, which can otherwise only be provided by the Court. It may be used when a parent is temporarily unable to care for their child such as during illness, crisis, or housing difficulties, or where the Local Authority approaches parents, asking them to consent to place their child into care due to significant safeguarding concerns whilst assessments take place, or they prepare their application to Court to initiate Care Proceedings. Crucially, the parent retains full parental responsibility throughout, and the Local Authority does not gain overriding legal control as it would under an Interim Care Order. Consent must be informed and voluntary, and can be withdrawn at any time. Properly used, it can provide short-term support during moments of crisis. Misused, it can operate as a mechanism that avoids judicial scrutiny or otherwise offers a more promising position for the Local Authority when they inevitably apply for an Interim Care Order. The question is whether a Section 20 in the context of newly-postpartum mothers, actually satisfies the legal criteria of consent. Increasingly, critics argue that Section 20 is not always deployed in the spirit in which it was designed. Instead of genuine partnership, some parents experience it as pressure dressed up as choice.