Justifying infanticide

Both logically and emotionally, the line between abortion and infanticide is less clear-cut than it

A paper by two medical ethicists has elicited horror, but also a certain amount of glee, among anti-abortion campaigners.

Writing in the Journal of Medical Ethics, Alberto Giubilini and Francesca Minerva argue that it should be lawful to "abort" newborn babies, even for what seem to be social reasons (for example, if the parents would find it difficult to bring the child up). "Foetuses and newborns," they assert, "do not have the same moral status as actual persons." They propose the term "after-birth abortion" instead of the more commonly-used and more emotive "infanticide" for a procedure that they assert "could be ethically permissible in all the circumstances where [pre-birth] abortion would be."

Their logic is quite simple. They regard the location of the foetus/infant -- inside or outside the womb -- as morally irrelevant. Both newborns and not-yet-borns are, at best, "potential" persons, lacking self-awareness and the ability "to make aims and appreciate their own life." It follows that the needs of the adults concerned, especially the mother, and perhaps of society as a whole, should take precedence over the purely notional "rights" of the person-to-be.

The argument itself is not new. Most notably, the Australian philosopher Peter Singer has advanced it arguing for allowing euthanasia of severely disabled infants. But Giubilini and Minerva have advanced it in particularly stark terms; so stark, indeed, that on first reading it the thought occurred to me that it might be a hoax perpetrated by pro-lifers. It isn't. And they go beyond even Singer by raising the possibility that entirely healthy newborns might be "aborted" in the psychological interests of adults.

The paper raises the valid question of when any abortion law should draw the line, and correctly notes that from the point of view of the "ex-foetus" (terminology in this area is a minefield) the moment of birth is as arbitrary as the law's choice of a particular gestational date, such as twenty or twenty-four weeks. But why stop there? In 1974, in the aftermath of Roe v. Wade, Philip K Dick wrote a short story, The Pre-Persons, in which he imagined a society in which no-one was considered fully human who was unable to understand basic algebra, and in which parents of younger children were able to call an abortion truck to take their troublesome offspring away to be euthanized.

A character in the story prefigures the arguments of Giubilini and Minerva with uncanny precision:

If an unborn child can be killed without due process, why not a born one? What I see in both cases is their helplessness; the organism that is killed had no chance, no ability, to protect itself.

We may indeed recoil from the concept of killing children. Protecting the weak and vulnerable is, we are all brought up to believe, a cornerstone of civilisation. Yet in other times and places infanticide has been widely practised -- often for no better reason than sex-selection. As the ancient Chinese philosopher Han Fei Tzu once put it, "As to children, a father and mother when they produce a boy congratulate one another, but when they produce a girl they put it to death." In the Roman world it was commonplace to expose unwanted infants at street corners or on rubbish dumps. Indeed, it's probably true to say that, before the advent of modern surgical procedures or antenatal diagnosis, infanticide was the functional equivalent of late-term abortion.

And many cultures have understood that the moment of birth is not necessarily decisive in determining the status of the child. To take one example, while Jewish law has never permitted infanticide, traditionally an infant is not considered fully viable (and thus a full member of the human community) until it has survived for thirty days outside the womb. Historically, such a provision makes sense: a newborn child is extremely vulnerable and in the days before modern medicine might easily die soon after birth.

Biologically, too, those who argue like Giubilini and Minerva are on firm ground. Human babies are, by most mammalian standards, born prematurely with far less autonomy than, for example, a baby cow. They are wholly dependent on adult nurture and remain so for many months. The brain, in particular, is under-developed at birth. A newborn child is in many ways still a foetus.

Nevertheless, it's not surprising that the paper has received such a strong reaction. So strong that the JME editor Julian Savulescu has written that "proper academic discussion and freedom are under threat from fanatics opposed to the very values of a liberal society." To many pro-life campaigners, the very fact that such an argument can be made is proof of the moral and spirtual bankruptcy of those who favour free access to abortion. Yet the authors' central claim is precisely what anti-abortionists have always argued: that there is no moral difference between a foetus and a newborn child. Either both are, or are not, fully human.

This is not how the case for abortion is usually put. As the term "pro-choice" implies, the emphasis is on the pregnant woman and her right to "do what she wants with her own body". The foetus is scarcely considered at all, which is why the moment of birth must be seen as crucial. The mother might be legally responsible for the infant, but it is in no sense still a part of her body. It's hard to argue that prohibiting infanticide impacts her bodily autonomy in the same way that restricting abortion inevitably does.

The JME paper is not, then, a logical extension of the pro-choice case. By switching the emphasis from the rights of the mother to the moral status of the foetus it in fact plays into the hands of the pro-lifers. For however logical the authors' argument, emotionally it is highly troubling. The natural revulsion it elicits can attach equally to late-term abortion, perhaps to abortion as a whole. Whatever may have occurred in other times and places, our society is one in which infanticide excites peculiar horror. And, both logically and emotionally, the line between abortion and infanticide is less clear-cut than it was in the days before incubators and ultrasound.

 

 

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It harms women more than men when dads doing parenting are seen as “babysitters”

In the grand scheme of things, being seen as a mere babysitter is less dehumanising than being seen as a mere woman.

“Dads don’t babysit (it’s called ‘parenting’).” So says the T-shirt created by Al Ferguson of The Dad Network, in response to the assumption that a father seen caring for his own offspring is simply playing the role of temporary childminder.

The t-shirt has prompted a great deal of debate, not to mention marketing opportunities (you can already buy a “my dad doesn’t babysit” onesie for your little one). It seems more and more fathers want to be recognised as equal carers, and who can blame them?

From a feminist perspective, it’s easy to see why describing fathers as “babysitting” their own children is a bad idea. It lowers the expectations placed on fathers, putting them on a level with people who have no emotional ties to their children and are merely providing a service.

It feeds into the myth that when it comes to wiping bottoms and drying tears, fathers are amateurs while mothers are naturals.

It suggests that childcare remains the sole responsibility of mothers, who should therefore be grateful should any man bother to “help them out”.

It’s rare to see mothers described as “babysitting” their own children. On the contrary, one is either “being a mother” – doing what mothers do, without receiving any particular recognition for it – or one is guilty of neglect.

To that extent, I’m with the dads. I don’t want them to be seen as mere babysitters any more than you do. And yet there’s something about the testimonies of some of the “babysitting” dads of reddit that I can’t help but find annoying. Sure, their parenting efforts aren’t always appreciated – but do they have to be quite so self-pitying about it?

Take this complaint appearing in the “Dads don’t babysit” thread, for instance:

“Watch comedy shows about families. Dad is always the bumbling but loveable fool, mom is the strict, way too good looking, poor woman who has to put up with all of this.”

Poor men. Poor, poor men. And lucky, lucky women for being the beneficiaries of gender stereotypes that would appear not to bear any resemblance whatsoever to real life.

Except that’s not quite true. While the number of stay-at-home fathers in the UK has risen, it remains relatively low at 16 per cent of all stay-at-home parents. In heterosexual couples where both parents are in paid employment, women continue to take on the majority of household tasks and childcare responsibilities. While carework is seen as the key reason why mothers earn less than childfree women, men with children earn more than men without.

Moreover, there is evidence that men tend to cherrypick when it comes to the type of childcare they are willing to perform. Kicking a ball about in the park is one thing; taking time off work to look after a sick child is quite another.

Of course, when I say “men” I mean #notallmen. But enough men to make it somewhat galling when “fathers being seen as mere babysitters” is presented as an injustice not just to women, but to men.

The trouble is, when it comes to how children are cared for, many fathers do behave more like babysitters. They get to do the fun tasks; they don’t end up out-of-pocket; they’re not expected to stick around to clear up afterwards. Not all men are like this, but is it really fair to pretend that current divisions of labour are more equitable than they really are?

This is a common dilemma for feminists when dealing with gender. Do we let language run ahead of reality on the basis that this in itself will change expectations of what should be, creating a virtuous circle of cause and effect?

Or do we assume, as I tend to, that any linguistic manoeuvre suggesting that equality has already been achieved will be used to suggest that women have nothing left to fight for?

After all, we’ve already been told, for years on end, that “perhaps the pendulum has swung too far”. Alas, it’s utter nonsense. The “pendulum” remains one massive swinging dick, swooping between boorish laddism on one side and performative new man-ism on the other. Women don’t even get a look-in.

It’s easier to be frustrated at gender stereotypes than it is to remember why they exist in the first place. Inequality between men and women is so deeply ingrained – and so pathetically mundane – that we forget beliefs about men and women’s “essential” selves have anything to do with it.

We treat the imposition of gender roles as equally unfair on both men and women, failing to register that it is through these assumed roles that men have acquired the vast majority of the world’s wealth and resources. When men suffer due to gender, it is a side-effect; when women suffer, that’s because it’s the whole sodding point.

Thus a woman trying to gain acceptance while performing what is traditionally seen as a “man’s” role is not in the same position as a man performing a “woman’s” role. The woman will eventually crash into the glass ceiling, while the man may well find himself on board the glass escalator instead.

From a male perspective, this particular privilege is experienced as a mixed blessing. To their credit, some commenters on the reddit thread note how the criteria for being a wonderful dad can end up the same as those for being a terrible mother:

“When my kids were little I’d take them to the playground and chase them around a little bit then settle in on a bench and look at my phone while they played. I can’t count the number of times people walked up to me while I was essentially just airing out my kids, and told me that I was a wonderful father. Meanwhile when my wife took them to the playground, when she sat on a bench and talked with her friends, people would tsk tsk her for not attending to our kids 100% of the time.”

The belief that men are not natural carers heightens the value of the caring work they do, whereas the belief that women are not natural, say, artists or politicians leads to them having to work several times as hard to be taken seriously. In the grand scheme of things, being seen as a mere babysitter is less dehumanising than being seen as a mere woman.

We all deserve to be recognised for the roles we perform. Nonetheless, there’s a difficult balance to be made between reflecting the ways things are and the way they should be. When it comes to shared parenting, I’d like to assume that we all want the same thing. But if that were the case, devoted dads, surely we’d already have it by now? And since we haven’t yet been there and done that, is it really time to be getting the t-shirt?

Glosswitch is a feminist mother of three who works in publishing.