Far Better To Have Existed
Thomas L. Lynn, Jr.
Earlier today, I encountered a provocatively entitled piece of Natalie Shoemaker on Big Think, Humans Have A Moral Duty To Stop Procreating. What is being advanced here? The thesis, evidently, that antinatalism, or the position that we should no longer bring children into the world such that the human species itself enters upon a fate of extinction is somehow a ‘fair’ view. The predicate upon which the author is advancing this rather charitable assessment seems to be twofold. For one part, there is an appeal to current ecological crisis. For the other, there is the more, one might say ‘essentialist’ framing of David Benatar. Yet neither of these lines of support can be viewed as ‘fair’ unless one is willing to countenance considerable lassitude with regard to logical or emotional coherence.
The Malthusian trope that the population must be ‘culled’ out of deference to the finitude of resource is an old one, likely older than Malthus himself. It is also convenient for misidentifying the ultimate or distal causes of ecological crisis in a manner which both forestalls the attainment of substantial solutions to that crisis, and preserves the iniquities so profitable to its beneficiaries. What are the ultimate or distal causes of ecological crisis? To begin though with the proximate causes, In physical terms, we may look at such factors as the large scale emission of fossil fuel gases, or the suffusion of waterways with chemicals exogenous to local habitats, or the irradiation of certain vicinities with the toxic byproduct of nuclear power. What is notable is the fact that these stressors derive not from human procreativity, but the imperatives of a particular system of economic production, capitalism. By subordinating the determination of social production to a logic of unrestrained expansion, it engenders a relationship with technology, and on a deeper level, an antagonism with nature that are more correctly the ultimate and distal causes of the problem. This is not to aver, incidentally, that technology is to be rejected out of hand. Rather, it is to offer that our relationship with it needs to change that it can harnessed to reflect precisely a sounder relationship with nature. In this connection, the deleterious consequences of capitalist imperatives are thrown into quick relief.
For patently, the raw capacity to produce energy from such sources as solar, or wind, or small hydro have been extant for decades. Yet the pace of their adoption has been glacial. Whither so? The stated ‘practical’ reason is cost of production. That is, the constraints upon or decisions deriving of the current system of economy. This though is not the end of the matter. For intimately connected with the broad attachment to that system is a thoroughly conditioned belief in scarcity as the very horizon of our existence. Indeed, the discipline of economics itself frequently is defined as concerned with responding to scarcity as the very situation which should limit our decisions of production and distribution. Now, it is not merely a syllogistic reality, but one which incarnates palpably that institutions and disciplines rely for their existence on the very problems for which they are set to resolve (e.g., pharmaceutical companies thrive on disease and are allergic to cures). Thus the tragic irony of classical economy that the categories whereby it would have us approach a situation of scarcity, actually perpetuate and create it. Thus billions are hungry in a world where food is thrown out at offensive scales. And, hence, pollution is seen as solvable by trading it as a commodity, and hence the adoption of sustainable strategies and approaches to energy production (e.g., distributed electricity generation, small hydro, et al.) are rejected for the question of their profitability. Moreover, the potential abundance of the world is actually concealed, masked not simply by the veil of ‘economic thinking’, but by the disastrous social relations which constitute the regime of capitalism. Perhaps it will be seem that we’ve meandered somewhat afield. But actually, we return to the original point. The problem of ecological crisis derives not from a situation of overpopulation, but a system of production and distribution which creates iniquity and ravages nature. It is the system that is the problem, and not the people.
And it is to be added that within the antinatalist view is a not so latent racism worthy of the colonial pretensions of the nineteenth century. For it will be asked from what portions of the globe does the growth of the human population derive? The bulk of that growth by most accounts is to be found in Africa and India, and, now to a lesser extent, in China. Presumably, then, any project of ‘population reduction’ would then focus its efforts on the historical quarry of imperialism, the racially marginalize and impoverished. Thus the ‘humanitarian’ veneer of antinatalism is revealed to be a hideous sham, a patina put upon a view which would encourage the worst sort of cultural violence, while preserving the structural injustices of the current modes of economy and state.
All said, there remains the second plank to the author’s congenial view of the uncongenial antinatalism, namely the account of it offered by David Benatar. Within the article to which we are directed, Benatar (in a large way using the character Rust Cohle of True Detective as a qualified template) goes further than to offer antinatalism as a response to the ecological challenges of the present, but as a response to life itself. Thus this choice expostulation:
When we look closely we notice just how much suffering there is. Consider, for example, the millions living in poverty or subjected to violence or the threat thereof. Psychological distress and disturbance is widespread. Rates of depression are high. Everybody suffers frustrations and bereavements. Life is often punctuated by periods of ill-health. Some of these pass without enduring effects but others have long-term sequelae. In poorer parts of the world, infectious diseases account for most of the burden of disease. However, those in the developed world are not exempt from appalling diseases. They suffer from strokes, from various degenerative diseases and from cancer...
This homage to the maudlin reflects an evasion both of the very problems that it cites, and an evasion of life itself. Let it be quickly remarked, in respect to the former, that the greater part of the distresses and disturbances which it so laments are founded not upon anything innate to life itself, but by institutions, frameworks, cultural variables that are themselves fluid and subject to amelioration, and that amelioration by the very human agency which Benatar would dismiss.Quite obviously, it is true that pain and death are part and parcel of life. But to judge the weight of those difficulties which life presents before us as grounds for its total rejection is to court a worse than fatal myopia. Benatar, is at least ‘honest’ on this latter point. Thus the title of his 2006 book, and his claim that it is ‘better not to have existed at all’. For Benatar, ‘consciousness is a curse’ and ‘self-consciousness’ a second and added one.
Here is the fundamental contradiction. Antinatalism constitutes a project, a recommendation for action. As such, it posits implicitly that there is some good which should guide our way through life, a moral compass. Consciousness is that very dimension of being which enables our awareness of, our comportment towards that good. Consciousness is the very condition whereby life itself enters upon meaning. To designate it somehow a curse, is in effect to deny life itself, and, really, being altogether. In fact, this is a more grievous position than nihilism. Nihilism, questioning the basis of any valuation, argues for a kind of suspension of commitment. And, indeed, nihilism suffers from its own difficulties. Yet antinatalism is not so humble as to argue for any such suspension. It is rather very actively committed to a rejection of life itself…and not merely human life if its premises are consistently followed, for indeed it apparently sees sentience itself as the enemy.
I shall be a bit old fashioned here, and respond as a simple existentialist. The condition of our lives is one of condemnation to freedom. Who and what we are is yet indeterminate. At the proverbial end of the day, what remains is to lend a contour, a shape, a determinacy that moves beyond, or even transcends that initial anomie. The task is to forge an identity, and, in that forging, to realize meaning. There is, thus, a profound excitement in the possibilities which stand forth before us, both as individuals and as a society. There is in those possibilities a doorway to great and redeeming adventure. There is also the possibility for great and profound generosity. To have a child and to raise that child to participate in life, in consciousness, in the great and redeeming adventure can be ultimately one of the most magnificent expressions of that generosity. To close ourselves off from that expression is to cut deeply into the very heart of what it can be to be human.
For, again, that is the question. What is it to be human? And we are all involved in the determination of this question’s answer. For my part, I stake with not only an affirmation of life, but of humanity, of human beings as capable of responding to the difficulties of our age, and of creating a future which can, as it were, exceed the present. I can only encourage you to join me in that reply.
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