Recently, I heard one young man explain why he volunteers at Planned Parenthood: abortion, he said, helps ensure fewer unwanted people come into the world. I’m sure he spoke from a place of compassion, but he missed the deeper consequences of his argument. By endorsing abortion for “unwanted” children, you imply that a human life is only worth the value other people place on it. I’m sure you’ve noticed a common trend amongst other people—they’re frequently and seriously wrong about many things, every single day, even those things which concern the most important questions of human dignity.
To clarify, my argument does not broach the subject of whether or not an unborn child is a person with rights, because that wasn’t something this young man voiced concern about. He didn’t say it was acceptable to abort children because they weren’t technically people; he said it was acceptable because they would be unwanted. That’s the idea I’m addressing here.
On this subject, take the sad example of refugees, especially refugee children. Even considering the children alone, there are still people in the world who would claim that they don’t want them—not in their country, their town, their home. Yet this does not deter the many advocates who argue on behalf of those children, advocates who can clearly see that others’ value judgments do not change the objective worth of the children’s lives. If the kids were “unwanted” by every person in every nation, would they therefore deserve to die?
If your answer is yes, I’m not sure what to tell you—but I expect your answer is no, as it should be. The feelings and capabilities of other people, even all people, do not change the fact that a vulnerable child deserves protection, provision, and respect.
Additionally, could anyone make a reliable value judgment on the life of another? If you could know a person’s future, their every thought, their struggles, and their potential happiness, then I would give you a gavel to bring down your sentence. But you and I can’t know these things.
You may argue we can predict when children will be born into poverty, whether economic or social; you may say these children have a poor chance at happiness. While I appreciate any attempt to be charitable to the poor, this happiness claim is founded on a hidden presumption—that we can use statistics to predict whether a person will find joy, meaning, and fulfillment in his or her life. Human life and happiness extend beyond observable circumstances.
I’ve met homeless people and seriously ill people who claim they’re happy, and their joy isn’t for me to dispute. Throughout history, in any given misery, some people have found happiness—should we deny them the chance, only because we can’t imagine how we ourselves could handle so much pain? People deserve the opportunity to discover their own resilience. No one—no statistical set, no parent—can make that judgment for someone else.
To prove this, find a person begging on the sidewalk. Ask them about their income, family environment, history of trauma, schooling, and health. If the answers to these questions reflect a poor quality of life, tell this person to their face that their life is not worth living. I’m not liable for their response. Can I suggest that a possible root of the “unwanted” argument is fear? We, too, live in fear of being unwanted. When we’re scared or repelled by something (a disease, a misfortune), we do everything we can to push the idea of it away. We may even believe, secretly, it would be better for someone to die than experience it—and we have said this about people who we believe (but cannot prove) would be “unwanted.” Not only have we said it, we have endorsed their deaths.
The mother in this equation may, herself, feel alone and unloved. It seems probable that the cycle of “unwantedness,” like many horrible cycles, perpetuates itself. Of the two people (mother and child) who enter an abortion clinic, neither should be treated as if they are of less than inestimable worth. Anyone in a position to help should make the mother feel her own dignity, too; perhaps in many cases she needs to feel the confidence of others in her own wantedness.
If we let our fears lead to judgments about another’s potential happiness, and we take that person’s life as preemptive action, we’re committing the worst crime against justice I can imagine: we’ve reduced human dignity to others’ feelings. I hope the sentences we’re passing never come down on you or I.
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