Abortion and “Enthusiastic Consent” to Being Born

As I mentioned in my last post, my Mom is terminally ill with pancreatic cancer.  There are probably options, if we looked hard enough for medical trials, to extend her life a little bit, but at what cost to her happiness and comfort?  If she is poked and prodded and given drugs that have nasty side effects and then given even more drugs to treat those side effects, if she adds another month of “life” that’s just plain miserable, then what’s the point?  Luckily, my Mom has the same viewpoint so we are now in the emotional phase of relishing our final time together, reminiscing, connecting, and laughing.

We live in a world in which human life is treated as paramount, as having essentially infinite importance and value.  I am truly grateful for good medicine and good doctors, but there is far too much emphasis on extending every life as long as physically possible, often without really considering that some life is just not worth living.

Indeed, our entire legal system is premised on the unjustified assumption that every life is worth living.  For example, suicide is illegal in most states.  (In 11 jurisdictions, physician-assisted suicide is legal only in the case of terminally ill patients who are in chronic pain.)  But what about a physically healthy person who just decides, rationally, that his life is not worth living?  That position is often the result of temporary depression or poor mental health, but not always.

This idea made me think of something else.  What’s true on the back end is true on the front end: we can’t assume that every life is worth living, even from its inception.  Consider the controversy over abortion laws in the United States in light of the overturn of Roe v. Wade.  The debate almost always comes down, in one form or another, to the question, “When is a fetus a human child worthy of legal protection?”  If a 12-week-old fetus is a child, then abortion is potentially murder; if the fetus is a parasite, then an abortion is a helpful medical procedure.

But here’s something interesting: in essentially every abortion debate, whether one is arguing for the “right (of the woman) to choose” or the “right (of the child) to life,” it is assumed that the fetus, if it developed into a child, would want to be born – specifically, to the woman, family, socioeconomic status, race, nationality, etc., to which it would be born.  Is that a fair assumption?  Is it at all justified?  Even if a given fetus actually is a human child worthy of legal protection, would it necessarily want to be born? 

A woman who wants an abortion does not want that child.  Perhaps she’s not ready; perhaps she was raped; perhaps she is homeless and destitute; perhaps she has a heritable disease; perhaps she’s a heroin addict who can only think about her next fix.  If you could ask a fetus whether it wanted to be born to that mother, in that location, in that situation – why would we assume the answer would be “yes”?

Indeed, there are lots of people, many of whom actually do eventually commit suicide, who are chronically unhappy or in psychological or physical pain because of the family, status, or situation into which they were born.  There are lots of people who, now alive and conscious, rationally wish they’d never been born, whose very birth gave rise to a lifetime of misery.

Side note: “Enthusiastic consent” is a buzzword now, especially in light of #MeToo.  It’s important, before two people are physically intimate, that they both clearly consent to the act, understand what they are consenting to, and are able to consent (e.g., not drunk).  But the very state of existing or not existing is perhaps THE most important decision anyone can make, so why aren’t people talking about enthusiastic consent to be created?

First, no fetus or child has ever consented, enthusiastically or otherwise, to be created or born.  Second, some fetuses and children, if they could have considered the conditions of their birth, would rationally have chosen not to be born.  So why does the “right to life” position always assume that imbuing a child with a right to life necessitates that the child would choose life?  My right to property, for example, allows me to decide not to own property, so why would a right to life – if a fetus possesses it – require the fetus to choose life?

This is an interesting argument and one that no one seems to be making.  Specifically, everyone (on both sides of the debate) seems to assume that a child would choose to live.  Not only is this patently false, but more importantly, when it comes to the most intimate and important action that can be taken with regard to a person – bringing that person into existence – that person never consented! 

 

Not a single person who has ever lived consented, enthusiastically or otherwise, to being born. 

 

This is a fascinating and important point for a few reasons.  First, I think that abortion might sometimes be a moral imperative, such as if a mother has good reason to think that the fetus, if it was born and lived long enough to make an informed decision, would genuinely wish that it had not been born.  Second, in the abortion debate, we really should recognize our unfounded assumption that a “right to life” does not automatically imply a preference or choice to live, and address that all children are brought into the world without their consent.

Finally, if I, personally, never consented to being born, then how can I possibly have any responsibilities as a result?  Despite over two years passing since my post on midlife and meaning, I continue to feel some anxiety over how I should spend my time.  A lot of it hinges on a variety of self- or societal-imposed responsibilities and obligations, but the realization that I never consented to my own birth makes me skeptical of many of these.  Why do I have to mow the lawn, for example? 

I think a lot of my own anxieties stem from a mismatch between what I want to do and what I think I should do.  But I really don’t have any responsibilities – how could I, if I never consented to being here in the first place?

When I think of it this way, it makes me realize that many (maybe even most?) of my “shoulds” are actually things I want to do.  For instance, I’ve had a mostly pescatarian diet for over a decade now, because I’m morally opposed to the animal abuse that pervades the meat industry.   (No, I don’t think fish or sea bugs are conscious.)  My diet is an annoying “should,” but now I realize that I actually want to eat in a way that doesn’t torture (potentially sentient) animals.

Having said that, a lot of my anxiety-producing “shoulds” are truly inconsistent with what I want, so maybe it’s time to let those go.