The present pandemonium in the US over abortion rights is shining a light on one of the central mysteries of our existence: we really have no idea how or when we got here. We sense that we are a “person”, but don’t know how or when that person came to be. No one has a memory of their beginning.
Though we’ve been pondering it since the time of Plato, neither science nor religion can definitively say when a person “starts”. We struggle to answer a maybe unanswerable question, and everyone gets frustrated. Scientists or theologians might choose from a succession of events to mark the beginning of a person: conception, a heartbeat, a nervous system, signs of movement, viability, breathing – but it’s all guesswork, clouded by emotion. So should we take caution to ridiculous extremes, or should we try to gloss over the whole problem?
In a “soul hypothesis”, we each are a non-physical entity that at some point incarnates into a human body for the purpose of experiencing a human life. But when? The new soul may well be around at the time of conception, but it would likely at least wait until the embryo was well-established before “moving in” – early miscarriages are far too common, so it would be more sensible to wait. And if this hypothesis is true, we can assume that the intelligence that designed the process is “sensible”.
Another theory would be that the soul somehow comes into being at some point in gestation. Another would be that there is no “soul”, but that nonetheless a “person” at some point comes to exist. But none of these theories, even if we agreed on it, solve the problem at hand: we don’t know when. We’d hopefully all agree, though, that a person should be treated like a person – even if they’re living in someone else’s womb.
Trying to merge scientific and religious concepts only heightens the confusion. For centuries, religious thinkers had marked the subjective event of “quickening” as the beginning of a fetus’ personhood; but as science was able to describe the process of conception, and as fetal heartbeats could be measured, these events were seized upon as a person’s “logical” starting moment. But this “scientific”approach is still entirely subjective, while also losing sight of the religious understanding of a soul – a spiritual entity not entirely governed by material events.
I’m not asking legal questions here, but physical and moral ones. In a dispute that not even King Solomon could resolve, I think the mother should be the one to decide about an abortion – if anyone’s qualified, it would be her. The rest of us can, at best, only ponder how to make that a more informed decision.
If a corporal person really begins with their first breath, there’s little moral quandary at all, but unfortunately it’s probably not that simple. Many mothers sense the presence of a person long before that breath, so the medieval demarcation of “quickening” might actually be accurate. If so, it’s still the mother who should discern whether this quickening has occurred; but in the absence of empirical guidance, her decision may be fraught.
So basically, big problem, no solution. Science barely seems to know what a person is, so isn’t much good for advice; and the proclamations of religious authorities are so archaic and arbitrary as to be useless. But both science and religion understand ethics, so should, one would think, be able to collaborate on seeking ethical solutions.
One would think science and religion could agree that a fertilized egg is no more a person than an unfertilized egg or sperm – there’s clearly no one there to have an opinion, or to be offended. We might mourn a miscarriage, or even a late period, but don’t usually consider it a death. The soul, if there be such a thing, will presumably simply wait for the appearance of a suitable vehicle – souls have all the time in the world. But even if all this is disputed, surely no one can seriously advocate for the personal rights of a sperm or egg.
So one would think both science and religion could easily agree that birth control should be an invaluable strategy in our attempt to avoid the profound ethical dilemma of abortion. Whether or not someone uses birth control is a personal choice, but there’s nothing inherently immoral about it.
Of course the real question here is about the morality of sex, and here I can only observe that there seem to be an insanely wide variety of sexual moralities. I would not even attempt to define “normal” human sexuality, much less try to enforce it on others – because maybe there is no such thing. It seems that some percentage of humans desire sex more often than is strictly necessary, or even advisable. Humans are also uniquely adroit at modifying and adapting our desires; but it does sometimes seem that God intended sex to be a problem. I understand how clergy would sense a responsibility for solving the problem, but their cookie-cutter solutions have proven to be tragically inappropriate. I would only hope that we each find what works for us, respectfully allowing others to do the same.
There are good arguments against using birth control, but I discount any argument based on superstitious theology. If God said, thousands of years ago, “be fruitful and multiply”, he certainly didn’t add: “and do so forever, exponentially”. By using our God-given brains, and by listening to our hearts, where his spirit hopefully resides, we can respond with love to our present reality. Superstition ain’t the way.
I have to give a special callout to the Catholic Church here. Guys, wake up – you are presently not part of the solution. Your misogyny is so vast that it can’t be hidden. Of course you share that trait with most other major religions, but your particular brand of silliness is exceptional. Stop treating women as things, and this problem might start to sort itself out.
This shouldn’t be controversial to say: in matters pertaining to childbearing, a woman’s voice should be the first and the last one heard. A man might have an opinion, but any man should recognize that women are inherently more qualified to address these questions. Starting with questions of sexual consent, all the way to questions of fetus’ rights, men might do well to become better listeners.
I went through a few abortions myself, when I was younger and dumber, and though I was only the perspective father, they still haunt me. Was I a party to the killing my own kid? I hope (and think) not, but if I did, I can only apologize. This really is about more than sexuality or freedom or autonomy: at some point, someone’s life is on the line. We’re each free to choose our reproductive strategy, but there definitely should be one. Choose abstinence, sobriety, birth control, or a large family – whatever you want. If your heart tells you that an abortion is okay – that the person isn’t there yet – go ahead; but in the real world this may be no easy decision. And obviously, governments and religions shouldn’t be making it harder, or more frequently encountered.
Whatever our “reproductive strategy”, there will be those heartrending situations where a medical condition calls for or necessitates a late abortion; but what pains me is the fact that much of the controversy around abortion is in truth a controversy over promiscuity – birth control and abortion being made intentionally unavailable in order to discourage “frivolous” sex. The potential unborn child is being held hostage in a dispute about human sexuality.
However we define or perceive healthy or appropriate human sexuality, it is inherently abusive to enforce this definition on others. Most of us, over time, conclude that loveless sex is, at best, unfulfilling. Perhaps parents should trust that their children will eventually figure this out, because this whole hostagetaking strategy is itself loveless to the extreme.
Since the entire topic of abortion is shrouded in scientific unclarity and ethical dilemma, our first aim should be to, as far as possible, avoid it altogether. Every pregnancy should be a wanted pregnancy. Rulers have always had good reason to encourage fertility, to increase their stock of laborers and soldiers, but their “authority” was feigned to begin with. God wants us to be smart, and to be able to choose the size and timing of our family as we see fit. Our desire for sex and romance is a wondrous and powerful thing, and we each must decide how to manifest that desire. Bringing a child into this world – allowing a person to incarnate – should be a joyous event for all concerned, and no loving God would want it any other way.
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