Saturday, February 20, 2010

Abortion and Republicans

I have just returned from our local Republican convention, where I was elected delegate for both our senate district and the state of Minnesota. I want to recreate one particular moment in the convention while it is still fresh in my mind. We were voting on whether or not we should remove the following language from the Republican platform:
"Abortion without exception is wrong and should be opposed. We oppose partial birth abortions and forced taxpayer funding of abortions or abortion providers. Abortions performed on minors without parental consent are wrong and should not be forced on the people of Minnesota by their government."
The person who proposed this resolution was not in attendance, but when the floor was opened for discussion, his precinct chair timidly spoke on his behalf. He explained that the person who proposed this resolution said the Republican stance on abortion is already quite clear, and repeated many other times, and that this text was redundant and unnecessary.

There was a bit of a hush, and I could sense a quiet and uncomfortable aura invade the room. It seemed as if even broaching the subject of abortion was taboo and dangerous. To me, the chair seemed almost apologetic that such an obviously unpopular resolution would even pass the pre-screening. I can't remember for sure, but I think there were a few statements opposing this resolution so that the party was as firm as possible in its pro-life stance, and supporting it to broaden the appeal of the party.

The chair asked if there was anyone willing to speak in favor of the resolution—to eliminate the text—and you could almost hear the crickets. Silence. I felt almost on-the-spot, as this very topic had been swirling in my head, seemingly, all last night. I even woke up with the exact language that I would say in this situation. It was obvious to me that this resolution had no support at this point, and was about to fall flat on its face. With what seemed like an insane gesture, I raised my hand to be recognized. Suddenly, I was standing before about 80 Republican delegates, with what I knew would be a very unpopular position. Here is (pretty much) what I said:
"If God granted authority to any one person over another, it is that of a woman over her unborn child. He did not grant this authority to the state, but to her, and perhaps also to her husband, mother, and father. This idea that the state is the primary moral guardian is contrary to the origins of our founding fathers and the founders of the Republican party. If we cannot trust mothers and fathers to care for the lives of their children, both born and unborn, we do not have a society to protect in the first place. I am in favor of this resolution."
As I spoke, there were bitter stares, and a somber man was even lightly tapping his heart with his palm, and I remember not knowing what he meant, but he did not seem amused. I was less than comfortable, but spoke strongly. My heart was pounding and I was careful to articulate as well as possible. I knew that an argument against abortion being part of the platform altogether was outrageous and unexpected.

The chair asked if anyone else would like to speak, and I don't remember any other volunteers.

"I move to vote on this resolution." (chair)

"Second." (some delegate)

"All in favor of passing this resolution say 'ay.'"

"Ay!" (It sounded like less than half the delegates).

"All opposed..."

"Nay!" (It sounded like more than half of the delegates. I wasn't surprised. I expected it to fail).

"The nays have it," said the chair.

"Division!" Someone yelled this from the back. After a contestable voice vote, anyone can ask for what's called a "division," which is an actual tally of the vote, to be sure the "ay's" did actually have the majority (but voiced their opinions with less volume).

"All in favor stand."

Many people stood. Way more than I thought I had heard. The count was made.

"Now all opposed."

The others stood. Another count. It was much closer than I thought!

"34 in favor. The resolution passes," the chair said, obviously surprised.

(!)

I don't remember how many were opposed, but it must have been in the high 20s. At this point my heart had not stopped pounding. I was shocked, and I think I wasn't alone. This resolution will now be debated in the Hennepin county county convention next month, where I will be much better prepared to defend it. I'm still amazed and delighted. It was wonderful to have a voice in what I consider a very important debate.

Soon after, as I was walking to submit my precinct's ballots for state delegate, a middle-aged man approached me. He complemented me on my speech, and then said:

"It's the object of the state to protect human life. It's just a matter of what you regard as human life."

I didn't know how to respond to that, and maybe just nodded slightly. Then, I felt his hand on my shoulder and he disappeared. As I thought about it, he was right. It is the object of the state to protect life. A state that does not defend the right to life is not worth preserving. But, I pondered...

What do we regard as human life?

Here is one argument that could be used by an advocate of removing abortion from politics...

Imagine you are a pregnant mother in the former Soviet Union, and the state has decided to outlaw abortions because its population needs additional slave labor to maintain its command economy. In this case, what is better? Is a miserable life without any choice or human rights, entirely at the mercy of a tyrannical regime, a life at all? Many would say no, and that it is merciful for the mother to abort her unborn child.

This may seem like a sound argument to a libertarian, but even this is not persuasive enough for me. I believe that, even in this case, or one where the baby would almost certainly be subject to complete slavery, the mother has a moral duty to do what she feels is right (probably deliver the child). The point is, moral imperative does not derive from subservience to the state, but from subservience to one's own conscience and an autonomous sense of duty. It is the state's obligation to protect the conditions upon which human life, in general, can exist. Defining life, or its meaning, cannot itself originate from the state, but is rather one of those necessary conditions (beyond the sphere of this discussion, but some might appeal to some 'sacred' concepts here).

In closing, when mothers are finally compelled to be impregnated and deliver in order to meet the needs of the state, all meaningful life will cease to exist. This must not be allowed to happen, and I believe devoting a part of my life to its prevention is worthwhile. I regard life as an end in itself, and not the means anything else, but especially not means to any partisan political end.

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