Since I read it ten years ago, I have always found the chapter on abortion in Richard B. Hays’ magnificent The Moral Vision of the New Testament (1996) exemplarily theologically level-headed. Of course Hays easily demolishes the discourse of “rights”; equally, however, he dismantles as quite unbiblical the notion of the “sacredness of lfe”. But, even further, he writes: “It is inappropriate to approach the issue of abortion by asking, ‘When does human life begin?’ or ‘Is the fetus a “person”?’ Such questions are unanswerable, both from a scientific point of view and from the biblical evidence. There is no basis in Scripture for answering – or indeed even asking – such questions.” But Hays then adds: “They are also exceedingly dangerous questions if they seek to justify abortion by defining marginal cases out of the human race. This is, for obvious reasons, a bad precedent to set. Jesus’ persistent strategy was, on the contrary, to define the marginal cases in.”
This anti-abortion paradigm of defining the marginal case in seems to me to be not only right, but also a useful point of contact (if you like) for the purpose of moral apologetics, particularly as the woman is rare indeed who, pregnant, regards an abortion as simply the cosmetic removal of an inconvenient cluster of cells. And, ironically, even pro-choicers will look askance at pregnant women who smoke or drink excessively.
However the thing is that, inevitably, if uncomfortably, even if you make the case for the marginal case, you are going to get marginal cases of the marginal case, of the kind that Sullivan sensitively draws to our attention. And then, further, particularly in a society where the concept of the common good is otiose, ousted by radical libertarian individualism, inevitably, if tragically, what Rowan Williams calls “moral slippage” sets in, the slippage “between thinking compassionately about exceptional cases and losing the sense of a normative position.” And that’s where we’re at now – at best. Is there a way to retrieve the normative position?
The language of “murder”, let alone state sanctioned mass murder, will get us nowhere, not only because it generates more heat than light but because it simply does not ring true. The vast majority of people, including Christians, simply do not react the same way to an abortion as they do to the killing of a child, and I am not convinced that this asymmetry is simply the result of cultural habit or moral stupefaction. It thus strikes me as semantically and ethically obtuse to speak of abortion statistics and the Holocaust, or the Rwandan genocide, in the same breath.
Nor do I think that the holy grail for Christians is the overturning of Roe v. Wade or, here in the UK, the repeal of the 1967 Abortion Act (and the latter just ain’t going to happen). The real issue here is not public policy, it is the ethos of death itself which is the soil of public policy, which includes not only abortion but also the legitimation of capital punishment and war – indeed the valorisation of war. Thus is Williams himself “genuinely puzzled by political parties, governments or churches that appear to find a greater moral problem in abortion than in the manufacture, marketing and use of indiscriminate weaponry.”
I submit that as long as such violence is thinkable – and thinkable as necessary, even redemptive – among Christians themselves, even the normative case against abortion will be not only morally inconsistent but morally unintelligible. Judgement begins in the household of God. Pacifism, as I have suggested before, goes all the way down, or else violence, in one form or another, will always find a way to rise to the top. As it is, because nonviolence, not only in the US but quintessentially in the US, is the great unthinkable, the only way to be consistently anti-abortion is to be foundationally anti-American.
Kim said:
. . . The vast majority of people, including Christians, simply do not react the same way to an abortion as they do to the killing of a child, . . .
This seems to be an key premise of what you elaborate further upon; but this is such an sweeping generalization that it really isn’t very helpful to what you are trying to persuade others of.
If Kim’s observation rings true, I think it can be persuasive in spite of being a generalization. Does it not ring true for you?
I would say that the point doesn’t necessarily ‘ring true’
for me. My impression is that most people will go out of their way not to have to deal with violence of any kind. They may or may not step in if they see someone murdering a child, but the only reason is because it’s right there in front of them. If it’s happening
in an alley across the street, most people would call 911, or ignore the situation because they ‘don’t want to get involeved.’ That’s the sad truth of our human situation. So I’m not sure the point is that strong.
Or, maybe, it makes Kim’s larger point even more important.
In any case, I think sometimes calling a spade a spade is a good thing.
This is a great article. I really need to check out that book.
I always have tried to point out the inconsistency of supporting war while being “pro-life.” Even when I was much more closed-minded on the issue of abortion, this inconsistency was confusing to me. I am glad that you have posted this.
Nathan,
Whether it rings true or is true are certainly two different things, that’s all I was underscoring. If it’s not true, in general, then the rest of what Kim is saying, at least in that clause, just doesn’t follow.
As far as for me, it doesn’t “ring” true!
Bobby, you’re attempting to dodge Kim’s very obviously true point. The fact is, we react differently to walking by an abortion clinic where we know an abortion is happening than we do to a guy knifing a toddler on the side of the road. If you saw the latter happening you’d likely intervene with any and all necessary violence. But in the case of the former we just walk on by and go about our day. That’s just a fact. For those who embrace the rhetoric of “abortion is murder,” and explanation for why this difference of reaction exists is needed. And none has been provided.
Halden said:
. . . If you saw the latter happening you’d likely intervene with any and all necessary violence.
You wouldn’t, if you’re being consistent with non-violence.
Halden said:
. . . we react differently to walking by an abortion clinic where we know an abortion is happening . . .
You’re right I do.
So then there is inconsistency on both sides. Not that this gets us anywhere, except back to square one; but it should illustrate that neither one of us can be thoroughly consistent with our apparent ethical systems . . . it’s not just the non-pacifist who is being inconsistent (unless you would walk by an child being knifed).
I suppose the difference in the scenarios is that “legally” in one (saving the child being knifed) I would be within the boundaries (in fact might be considered a hero by all in our society); and in the other (the abortion clinic) I would be considered an menace and a threat to society (an unstable person, and in fact would be considered a villain to most).
So the “Law” certainly makes a difference (not to my emotional/mental response); but in my actual actions. This is certainly an ethical dilemma, Halden.
The idea that our “emotional/mental response” and our “actual actions” can be distinguished is not something I see any reason whatsoever to accept. Especially if our affections determine our acts.
And since when do social conventions and cultural acceptance determine what Christians should or should not do? Is that really what you want to argue? Really?
I’m not trying to parse all these issues, nor to say that I’m not morally compromised and inconsistent. I’m sure I am. My point though, is that you said Kim’s point didn’t “ring true” even though it is very clearly and obviously true. That just needed to be said.
On your first point: that’s why I said this indeed represents an ethical dilemma.
On your second point: I’m not arguing that, I’m saying that this is an dilemma.
On your third point: it didn’t ring true, the way that I first read it. My thinking when he said “react” was that I think both instances are absolutely heinous and deplorable (they both make me sick). So it really depends on how one takes what Kim was saying (he didn’t fill it out the way you did, for example — he was more general than you).
In the end what are you trying to get at with all the talk on “consistency” vs. “inconsistency?” To me all it illustrates is that we still live in an fallen world, and when we try to say that there is an ethical system that is Christian (pacifism) and all others are basically non-Christian; that clearly this just is not sustainable.
An consistent pacifist I believe, for the most part, is non-existent; at least an “moral” one. Given your scenario, with the child getting knifed, is it “moral” to do nothing (i.e. if you don’t act, at that moment, the child will certainly be killed)? If you’re going to be an consistent pacifist, you will do absolutely nothing . . . but how can this be seen as “moral” in any meaningful sense?
I think you could benefit from more study of actual Christian pacifism. In no sense does it advocate doing “absolutely nothing.” As if the only thing that really counts as a real “something” is lethal violence. On the contrary Christian pacifism requires even more rigorous action and creativity in response to violence than the alternative. Because we can’t just kill people to solve our problems, we have to come up with other ways to act. And there are real people that live by this, many of whom have experienced the cost of this kind of Christian obedience.
Halden,
I live, functionally I would imagine, as pacifist as any pacifist does, everyday. My desire is to be at “peace” with all men. I never suggested that the only thing that really counts as a “real something” is lethal violence. I simply followed the scenario that you provided to its logical conclusion (the knifing of a child, as fringe or marginal as it may be); and my point with that is the same as your point with your original post on all this. And that is, that there are inconsistencies for all systems. I have admitted this (within the terms that you have set — my dilemma), why can’t you.
I know there are many people who attempt to be consistent pacifists; but this doesn’t really get at if it is always “moral” (per the scenario that you first suggested here).
I’m sure someday I’ll read some of Yoder, but I think I’ve read enough at this point to make an informed decision on this. But there is always an possibility for my views to change . . .
I’ll be bowing out of this particular discussion, now. Thanks for hosting these provocative discussions, Halden!
peace. ;-)
I’m finding this to be a really interesting conversation, so thank you.
What kind of language would be serviceable to accurately describe the reality of abortion? If it gets us nowhere to call it murder, what word would suffice?
I’ve read that somewhere around 80% of fetuses that test for Down’s Syndrome are terminated. I understand the hesitancy to call that a “holocaust,” but what should we call it?
The language of abortion is typically objective. That is, we address the fetuses which are terminated, and seek to compare the situation to other situations. Perhaps we could address the matter subjectively: why do we get abortions? What does abortion tell us about our culture and society?
I’m not sure the language is objective at all. After all, we only call it a “fetus” if we are going to “terminate” it, otherwise it’s known as a “baby”. Those terms seem to be euphemisms–along the lines of “enhanced interrogation technique.” When we go to our 20-week sonogram tomorrow, my wife and will not be saying to each other, “Look at that beautiful fetus!”
If we object to calling it “murder,” should we not also strongly object to calling it a mere “termination”? I completely understand (and am inclined to agree with) the inconsistency arguments that Halden and Kim are putting forth. But on balance, I guess that abortion seems to be closer to murder than anything else. But what language is preferable and still accurate?
KF said:
The language of “murder”, let alone state sanctioned mass murder, will get us nowhere, not only because it generates more heat than light but because it simply does not ring true. The vast majority of people, including Christians, simply do not react the same way to an abortion as they do to the killing of a child, and I am not convinced that this asymmetry is simply the result of cultural habit or moral stupefaction. It thus strikes me as semantically and ethically obtuse to speak of abortion statistics and the Holocaust, or the Rwandan genocide, in the same breath.
It’s true that most of us do not react to abortion as we do to the killing of a child. For me, though, this is the very point that makes it worthwhile to discuss state-sanctioned mass-murder. Part of the discussion in which the Rwandan genocide was first invoked dealt with how mass-murder is part and parcel of the way certain states, driven by certain ideologies, are constructed. (For this reason, we must question the ability of nation-states to serve as ‘legitimate authorities.’) In introducing the history of colonialist genocide to the discourse of abortion, the idea isn’t to suggest an identity between abortion and the state-sponsored projects of extermination that characterized Western imperialism. They are not the same, and it would be semantically and ethically obtuse to suggest they were. But if, as many pro-lifers would have it, abortion is a murderous enterprise on a huge scale; and if, given this atrocity, pro-lifers who are not opposed to enforcing ethics through violence nonetheless oppose the murder of doctors who perform abortions; and if the appeal to the state’s legitimate authority is the sole logical, Christian bulwark against these pro-lifers using violence to halt abortions, then how can reference to imperialist genocide be irrelevant? The large-scale violence inflicted by Western imperialism was and is driven by political structures and ideological convictions that influence the people who get abortions, the people who perform them, and the people who let it happen. If abortion is conceived as murder, then its scale is indeed massive, and it is indeed sanctioned by the state, and part of the state’s ability to sanction it resides in the state’s view of personhood. Thus, if abortion is murder, how can we fail to recognize a certain homology between its state-sanctioned practice and other instances of mass-murder that have occurred time and again under the auspices of the Western nation-state? Abortion may not be an attempt at extermination, but if it is murder, then the position of non-pacifist pro-lifers shares something with the position of many, many citizens of nation-states that have sanctioned genocide: the ability to react one way to the murder of a child while reacting another way to the murder of thousands and thousands and thousands of children.
My own feelings here are extremely murky. I have no penetrating analysis to offer. I only want to say that even though Kim’s point about reacting differently to abortion and the killing of a child seems generally true, it does not ring true if it is meant to suggest that abortion is not state-sanctioned mass murder. This is not to say that I, personally, see abortion as state-sanctioned mass murder. Only that the corollary to Kim’s general truth is that, while we react differently to abortion and the killing of a child, it seems to me that we also react differently to genocide and the killing of a child. Therefore, when we discuss how people who see abortion as mass murder react to it, we can’t overlook our positions as subjects in politico-ideological structures that are themselves thoroughly implicated in mass murder. It is not obtuse to speak of these things. It is horribly, horribly necessary.
To offer a parallel, I reacted much more strongly to when a member of my local community was killed as “collateral damage” in a shooting that was part of a gang war in my hometown than I did to hearing about the atrocities of Darfur. However, that doesn’t mean that the work of the gang is more evil than the work of the Janjaweed. What it means is that it is much easier for me to identify with the fellow from my community who was killed than to identify with the victims in Darfur. I could participate in some of the same actions, in the same places, as the local gang victim; I have much less in common with the Sudanese villagers. It is the same with abortion. I can share more practices and behaviours and interactions with a born child than with an unborn one, but that doesn’t by itself determine that the death of the unborn is less of a moral problem than the death of a born child.
Theophilus has nailed an important point, as Eagleton (and others) have said. We are all one step away from barbarism.