Some Thoughts on Abortion (and Responding To It)

This post is representative of many comments that I've seen lately in response to the murder of Dr. George Tiller. Naturally, this got me thinking about the alleged contradiction in the dominant "pro-life" position.

While my own still-developing view is likely to come out in what follows, my goal for this post is less to set forth my own view than to work through some of the thinking behind it. For the sake of simplicity, it oversimplifies some things and might not be as rigidly cohesive as I might otherwise try to make it. But I hope it will give you some food for thought; in fact, I hope you'll add any comments you might have: Does my reasoning work? Where does it go wrong? What possibilities or considerations would you add? In short, what do you think about the subject?

[Note that '(*1)' indicates footnote 1, etc.]

When it comes to the subject of abortion, the very first question to ask is this: What kind of thing is the unborn? The answer to this question influences everything that follows.

Why is this question important? Imagine a small child coming up behind you and asking, "[Your name], can I kill [or break] this?" How would you respond? Well, before you can answer the question properly, you have to know what "this" is. So you ask, "What is it?" and turn around to look. If it's a spider or a twig, you probably don't mind too much. But if it's the family dog or a fine china plate, you probably don't want it killed or broken.

So when we come to the question of removing a lump of cells from a woman's body and destroying it, we have to know just what that lump of cells is. If the unborn is of little or no value, then abortion is unproblematic. If the unborn has value in itself, then things become more complicated.

If the unborn is just a collection of cells in the mother's body--no different from an organ or tumor--then abortion is no worse than any other invasive surgery.

On the other hand, if the unborn is a human being, distinct from the mother, then abortion is killing. And not just any killing, but premeditated killing of a defenseless person (a good candidate for the word "murder").

Or as one slogan puts it: If the unborn is not human, no justification for abortion is necessary. If the unborn is human, no justification is sufficient (with the possible exception of saving the mother's life).

As I understand it, there are some pretty good scientific and philosophical reasons to think that the unborn is in fact a distinct human being (I might get into those in another post). But for the sake of examining the "pro-life" position, let's just grant that the unborn is a human being. What follows from that?

Well, as I said above, it follows that abortion is the killing of a defenseless human being. So now we have two moral values to consider: the mother's "bodily autonomy" and the child's right to life.(*1) Which is more important? That's a complex question, but let's assume (again for the sake of argument) that life has a greater moral value than bodily autonomy. It follows that the child's right to live is greater than the mother's right to do what she wants with her own body. And since the child hasn't done anything yet, it's hard to see how there could be moral or legal justification for killing it. If that's the case, then abortion is murder and aborters are murderers.

Which brings us to the present question: What should morally responsible people who recognize abortion as murder do about it? If it is indeed the case that millions of babies are murdered every year, do we have any moral obligation to stop it?

This gets us into yet another complicated issue, namely that of defense of others and of self. I'll try to represent the options accurately without going into too much detail.

The most straightforward approach is total pacifism: Violence is not acceptable in any circumstance whatsoever. For the pacifist, the only acceptable way to oppose abortion is "internally," by which I mean working within the society to make abortion illegal, unaccepted, and unnecessary. There might be any number of methods to achieve this, but violence is never among them.

At the other extreme is what I might call vigilante justice: Hurt or kill the would-be attackers before they can hurt or kill you. The "pro-life" vigilante sets out intentionally to kill anyone and everyone who performs abortions. For the sake of defending those who cannot defend themselves, anything goes. Such extremists might even kill or terrorize people seeking abortions, though that seems blatantly counterproductive.

And, of course, there are middle roads: For example, allowing violence in defending against imminent threats but not allowing preemptive attacks. Such an activist might seek to kill only those who perform late-term abortions, or doctors who are about to actually perform an abortion, along with working for internal change.

But moral-action judgments must always include pragmatic considerations. We don't want to feed the homeless rotten food or prevent AIDS with a flesh-eating vaccine. And if abortion is systematic murder, then the moral responsibility of "pro-lifers" is to end the "holocaust" as quickly and efficiently as possible.

If the goal is to prevent as many abortions as possible, then killing individual aborters could be one of the worst ways to achieve that goal. You might save several hundred babies (the ones that particular doctor would have killed) but condemn thousands more to death by "setting back" the work of making abortion illegal and unaccepted.

Even if you could coordinate a mass assassination of every aborter on the planet at once, new aborters would come along, and you'd have to kill them, too. More seriously, this would probably create an atmosphere of fear, anger, hatred, and vengeful desire that would have terrible but unpredictable repercussions. (Imagine armed bands roaming the streets, fighting with each other, the police, and the military.) The life of a child may be more valuable than the autonomy of a mother, but the long-term stability of society could be more important than the lives of millions of babies.(*2) In short, the evil caused by such an act could easily outweigh the good caused by preventing abortions.

Is killing abortionists good? No. Is it more justifiable than abortion itself? Perhaps. Speaking pragmatically (and therefore morally), are there better ways to end the "abortion holocaust"? Almost certainly.(*3)

C. S. Lewis said, "Let us never mistake necessary evils for goods." Taking the "big-picture" view may be the most pragmatically moral approach, but it doesn't do much to help the children that will be killed by abortion today. Perhaps in a fallen world, there are times when there are no "good" choices, only "less evil" ones. Would Jesus have killed Dr. Tiller? I don't know, but I doubt it. But then, God has a way of showing us the options, then giving us what we ask for and letting us deal with the consequences.

If abortion is the killing of an innocent human child, then it is wrong, and no amount of wickedness or ideological inconsistency on the part of "pro-lifers" can change that. But even if you believe that abortion is murder and that violence can be justified when defending the defenseless, it doesn't follow that you're obligated to engage in or condone the killing of abortionists.


--Footnotes--
*1: Of course, if the child is a distinct being, does the mother really have "bodily autonomy" over it?

*2: Though that is by no means obviously true. And even if it were, how many babies is social stability worth? 50? 500,000? 500 million?

*3: Greg Koukl presents the interesting analogy of military sabotage:

Musings on Politics and Science

An assortment of thoughts at various degrees of development. (Try not to faint from shock that I've actually written a substantive post.)
As always, comments are welcome and encouraged.

**

I've heard often that Party X needs to "put ideology aside in favor of doing what's good for the nation." This is not an entirely new sentiment, but it does seem to be more prevalent now than during the previous administration.

This is more than a false dichotomy; it's completely absurd. It fails to grasp that political ideology is about "what's good for the nation." Many (most?) of the people who opposed the stimulus bill did so precisely because they believed that doing so was "for the good of the nation."

Ignoring ideology in favor of "doing what's good for the country" would be akin to ignoring medical science in favor of "doing what's best to treat the patient"; in both cases, the former critically informs your approach to the latter.

****

Is the middle of an economic crisis really the best time to worry about dramatic new programs? Health care reform, alternative energy, educational improvements...these are not inexpensive projects. Given the magnitude of the crisis (remember how we couldn't wait for Congress to actually read the stimulus bill?), shouldn't economic recovery take precedence over other concerns?

****

President Obama has said that he wants to "restore science to its proper place" by "taking the politics out of science" (paraphrases from memory). I would find this amusing were it not so tiresome (not to mention backward).

First of all, exactly what is the "proper place" of science? Note that that's not a scientific question. So who gets to answer it? Also note that if a politician (especially the president!) makes a ruling about science (like assigning it a "proper place"), he has--by definition--"politicized" science.

Second, President Obama clearly doesn't mean what he says. In his stem-cell executive order, he calls for "free and open inquiry" so that scientists can "do their jobs, free from manipulation or coercion" and so that "we make scientific decisions based on facts, not ideology." Why, then, does he insist that "our government never [open] the door to the use of cloning for human reproduction"? Surely reproductive cloning holds great interest from a scientific perspective; think of what we could learn about human development. It is only ideology that leads the president to impose this manipulative limitation. He has just made a "scientific decision" based on ideology rather than facts.*1

This is as it should be: Science by itself tells us only about what we can do, nothing about what we should do. If we were to completely divorce scientific practice from political and ethical ideology, there would be nothing to prevent any form of human experimentation. (And your opinion about the morality of various kinds of experimentation is not ultimately a scientific decision; science makes no value judgments.)

The Wall Street Journal puts it somewhat more succinctly: "The question of whether to destroy human embryos for research purposes is not fundamentally a scientific question; it is a moral and civic question about the proper uses, ambitions and limits of science."

*1: As the president uses the term, "facts" appears to be limited to empirical data, since it doesn't include the possibility of moral facts.

****

President Obama has promised to fix the economy, reduce or eliminate the national debt, restore America to a position of international authority, initiate universal health care, transform our energy economy, and overhaul our public education system, all without raising taxes on 95% of taxpayers...and all in his first term. I think there are only two ways to account for such a claim: insanity or deceit.

Obviously, one of us is delusional.

Schoolwork Summary #1: Scientific Explanation

(Not that this is news to anyone, but Holiday + Sickness + Laziness = Procrastination on Intellectual Projects. But I have overcome that equation, and can finally present my first summary. It should be noted that I have revised my project somewhat and expanded my page limit to 2 pages. While I could probably trim these precis down to one, I think I'd have to sacrifice too much nuance to do so. Besides, that would be more like an abstract than a precis anyway. :-p)

*****

Scientific Explanation
(original length: 10 pages)

Science is a fundamentally human enterprise that has much in common with other academic disciplines. As an explanatory mechanism, science aims to account for phenomena in terms of causal structures. Science differs from other kinds of explanation in virtue of its subjects of inquiry and its methodology: It focuses on the natural world and emphasizes repeatable testing and empirical data. Science is not our only source of understanding, but rather one strand of the greater web of human knowledge. Because science is only one tool of the knowledge enterprise, it can both inform and be informed by other intellectual disciplines. It is in this role, as an important but not domineering contributor to the sum of human knowledge, that science finds its proper place.

The primary virtue of causal models of explanation is that they can account for explanatory asymmetry. Explanations have directions, and explanatory direction mirrors causal direction. For example, the height of a flagpole causes (and explains) the length of its shadow, but the length of the shadow does not cause (or explain) the height of the pole. This asymmetry has proved incredibly difficult to account for with other (non-causal) models of explanation.

One of the most apparent problems with causal models is the question of relevance—that is, of knowing which causal influences are relevant to the explanation at hand. (Are the gravitational forces exerted on me by distant stars relevant to how hungry I am?) On a “difference-making” model, potential explanantia are relevant if and only if they made a difference to whether or not the explanandum occurred. (If the gravitational forces of distant stars had not acted on me, I would still have been hungry, so those forces did not make a difference; therefore they were not causally relevant.) This conception has the benefit of matching our intuitive understanding of what causation means.

A more challenging problem for causal conceptions is the difficulty of accounting for the ground of causal laws, which provide the structures that connect explanantia to their explananda. Do such laws describe the nature of reality, or do they merely report observed regularities and repetitions? Do all regularities result from laws? If not, how do we distinguish laws from mere regularities?

Three elements can help distinguish laws from regularities. First, laws are universal in scope; they are not about particular circumstances or entities, but rather about every instance of some kind of circumstance or entity. Second, laws express necessary relations. Finally, laws support counterfactual truths by distinguishing between contingent and necessary states of affairs. For example, it is true that there are no solid spheres of pure iron weighing more than 100,000 kilograms; but there could be such spheres, so this is a contingent truth. It is also true that there are no solid spheres of pure plutonium weighing more than 100,000 kilograms, but this is necessarily true; the nature of plutonium makes it physically impossible that there should be such spheres, so the lack of such spheres is a result of a natural law.

The nature of causal laws remains a problem for causal models of explanation (and for the philosophy of causation as a whole), but it is also a problem for most other models. Because the causal model can account for explanatory asymmetry, it remains the best model of how explanation works.


As mentioned above, science deals with natural, observable entities, seeking to provide an increased understanding of the natural world. In actual practice, the “Scientific Method”—with its idealized step-by-step process—is neither exclusive to science nor rigorously employed by scientists. The self-policing system of repeated, peer-reviewed experimentation has analogues in most other academic disciplines. And while the general elements of the Method—observation, hypothesis, experimental testing, evaluation, and revision—are indeed typical in scientific practice, the order in which they are applied varies from case to case.

Though science relies on observations, we cannot make observations independently of ideological presuppositions. Our current theories and beliefs inform the way we perceive new things. This is particularly noticeable when it comes to observational instruments, for even a tool as simple as a magnifying glass is built and used with certain theories about the world in mind.

Presuppositions play an even greater role in interpretation than in observation. Consider two scientists who hold competing hypotheses (X and Y) to explain some phenomenon. Given a set of data that seems to confirm X at the expense of the Y, the scientist who supports Y might well interpret the data as anomalous or inconclusive. Indeed, his presuppositions may not have led him to make the observations in question in the first place. In contrast, the scientist who supports X will accept the data as they are and claim increased support for X.

This is the problem of underdetermination—multiple hypotheses can account for any given set of experimental data. In such cases, science alone (governed as it is by observation and testing) cannot make a value judgment between competing proposals. We must look outside of science—using extra-scientific criteria, such as simplicity or predictive power—to fully understand such phenomena, and different presuppositions lead to different conclusions from the same data. But such presuppositions are themselves nonscientific. Indeed, the problem arises even before science begins, for we have to decide what to observe, and such a decision simply cannot be made independently of background beliefs. Science is therefore ineluctably linked to the broader realm of human knowledge (notably philosophy).

This connection has spurred controversy over the proper practice of science, particularly as it relates to theology. Numerous scientists, judges, and philosophers insist that God cannot be included as an element of scientific explanation, but many of the same people would use science to prove that God does not exist. We cannot have it both ways: If God cannot be a factor in scientific explanations, then neither can science disprove the existence of God.

Because science is an inescapably human endeavor, it is no more infallible than any other academic discipline. Indeed, the history of science shows that most ideas that were once held to be true were eventually shown to be false, or at least incomplete (e.g. phlogiston, ether, and the “plum-pudding” model of the atom). Science is messy, emotional, and susceptible to political and ideological dogmatism (as are all human endeavors).

Furthermore, because science deals with natural subjects, there are subjects it cannot deal with directly (including God, art, and history, among others). But God and other agents can influence the natural world, thereby influencing the outcomes of scientific inquiries. Science cannot operate in an intellectual vacuum (independent of philosophical foundations); it overlaps with other academic fields to varying degrees. When different fields seem to contradict each other, we must evaluate the results of each field on its own terms. We don’t use scientific testing to evaluate the validity of historical conclusions any more than we would use historical methods to determine whether scientific results were valid. When conflicting claims still seem equally viable, we can use inference to the best explanation (abduction) to help us decide which claim is most likely to be true. However, since such quests for knowledge are human endeavors, it is always possible that we simply do not have enough information (or intellectual capability) to understand certain topics.

*****

Discuss.

Musings on Movie/Book Relations

I saw Prince Caspian (the movie) earlier this week, and it got me thinking about the relationship between books and movie adaptations thereof (not for the first time, and almost certainly not for the last, either). Minor spoilers follow.

My impressions of the film can be summed up thusly: It was a pretty good movie, but it wasn't Prince Caspian. When the editors put the words "based on the novel by C. S. Lewis" in the opening credits, they forgot to add the words "very loosely." The cast of characters is about the same, at least as far as names go, and there are some parallels in the plot, but that's about it. Personalities were changed, scenes were removed, new scenes were inserted, and themes were twisted. Some of these changes were understandable, and the movie worked fairly well taken by itself, but this is not Lewis's version of Narnia. (For some specific examples and very good commentary, check out Jared's Moviegoings entry.)

In fact, I saw almost as many parallels with the Lord of the Rings movies as with the Caspian book. Let's play Guess the Movie By the Scene, shall we?

1) Rider on horseback is chased by a handful of other riders. The chase moves over plain and through forest, eventually reaching a river, where the pursuers are swept away. Fellowship of the Ring or Prince Caspian? (Answer: Both of the above)

2) Long-haired archer stabs an enemy with an arrow, then proceeds to shoot another enemy with the same arrow. Said archer fights like a demon in close-quarters combat as well as at range. Lord of the Rings or Prince Caspian? (Answer: Both of the above)

3) An army of living trees lays waste to the evil army that has deforested the land and oppressed the heroes. The Two Towers or Prince Caspian? (Answer: Both of the above. Are you seeing a pattern here?)

4) Dramatic, sweeping aerial shots of unusual siege weapons bombarding Fort Good Guys. Return of the King or Prince Caspian? (Answer: You get the idea)

My mixed feelings for the movie are exemplified in one scene in particular: I was very disappointed by the "raising the White Witch" scene; not only was it not in the book, I don't think it added anything worthwhile to the film (and Lucy should not be a knife-fighter, it's just wrong). However, given that the scene was there, I was quite pleased that Edmund was the one to drive the Witch away. The reference to his doing something similar at the beginning of the movie was a nice touch, if a bit predictable.

In an interesting coincidence, I've just finished reading The Jungle Book for the first time. Before this week, my only exposure to the work was from the animated Disney film of that name. This is the first time (that I can recall) that I have experienced the derivation prior to the inspiration, and it's a bit of an odd feeling. I always liked the Disney version (indeed, I still enjoy many of the older Disney cartoons), but it's almost as different from Kipling's book as Disney's Caspian is from Lewis's. Nearly all of the characters' personalities are completely different. (Movie-Baloo is a goofy clown, while Book-Baloo is a wise teacher; Movie-Shere Kahn is intimidating and frightening, while Book-Shere Kahn is lame, cowardly, and in many ways the laughingstock of the Jungle.) The plot has almost more new material than original. But the film works, despite the "unfaithfulness" (and I still love the vultures, even if they aren't in the book).

In the end, what these experiences have done is reaffirm the conclusion that I reached around the time of the film version of The Two Towers: Comparing books and their movie adaptations (or movies and their book adaptations) can make for entertaining dinner conversation, but one just can't expect much in the way of correspondence. The best we can hope for (but I think we can expect this) is that the adaptation will stay true to the spirit and themes of the original.

These two different media are just too different.



(Ah, it feels good to do a real post for a change. :-p)

Brilliant Satire with a Chewy Center of Social Commentary

...and a coating of vulgarity. But first, an update.

I know the whole "Martinez is too busy to post" shtick is beyond old, but that doesn't make it any less true. In this case, I've spent the past weeks moving from (1) a detailed analysis of the Gospel of John to (2) cramming for an NT Survey exam to (3) writing a research paper on the angelology of C. S. Lewis's "Space Trilogy." Now I get to work on (4) a detailed analysis of Acts, (5) the revision and improvement of the aforementioned research paper, (6) cramming for the next NT Survey exam, and (7) trying to tie the threads of Metaphysics together in preparation for the midterm. Oh, and lots and lots of reading in there, too. Round Two begins later.

On the positive side, I get Easter Week off, so I should be able to make some good headway then. And now that I'm getting more than 3.5 hours of sleep each night, I'm finally starting to shake off the cold that's been plaguing me for weeks.

So, now that that's out of the way, I'd like to pass along an interesting video that my brother shared with me. I might comment a bit on it, as well.

WARNING: The video linked below contains a veritable landslide of profanity (ranging from the s-, f-, and n-words to the m-f and g-d constructions) and some suggestive images. If you are readily offended by such material, do not follow the link. If your family/friends/co-workers/quilting group are readily offended by such material, do not watch the video in their presence. You have been warned.

Of course, most of you realize (I hope) that I'm not one to encourage profanity for profanity's sake. But sometimes one has to adapt one's message to a particular medium in order to be effective. With that in mind, if you can tolerate some "offensive" material in the name of biting satire and social commentary with claws, then click away:

Read a Book

I'm not a big rap fan, but I've heard enough of it to recognize this as a mighty fine parody. And to accusations of racism, I respond: Nowhere in the content of the song is there any reference to race. If the cartoons seem to portray particular racial stereotypes, it's probably because they represent the typical audience of such music (and that's part of good satire; matching the styles of the subject). In short, a series of worthwhile messages for everyone, despite the crass language.

Oh, and he gets major bonus points for using Beethoven as his musical foundation.

And finally, to close with something less controversial: If you haven't already seen this, prepare to be astounded (if you have seen it, enjoy it again):
Go, Wayne Grudem!
Awesome.

As always, commentary is appreciated and encouraged.