It’s Just A Human Life

As far as I can recall, the only significant fight that Dani and I have ever had occurred as we were stumbling (drunk, because normally I’m extremely graceful) down Franklin Street to buy more beer on the evening of some NCAA championship game. Because we’re both fairly intelligent and not total assholes, we were having a conversation about something vaguely intellectual and the subject rolled around to abortion. I’ve learned throughout the years, although perhaps most specifically as a result of PUA stuff, that there are some things you simply don’t talk to women about – particularly ones you’re trying to sleep with. However, as mentioned, I was a little bit drunk and she’s a little bit weird so I thought “Hey, perfect time to let the anti-humanist flag fly.” Big Mistake. She started asking a lot of questions beginning with “What would you do if…”, always a sign of  trouble, and I answered, somewhat provocatively (did I mention I was drunk yet?) that at some point, these sorts of caluclations have to consider that “it’s just a human life.” This produced the (predictable) shit-storm, which I guess is somewhat understandable given that we try and make a baby – or at least replicate the act, if not the goal –   whenever we’re alone (and sometimes when we aren’t – sorry Matt!)

 

The argument sounds cold, but I think it’s one that’s internalized at some level in most of us.  The US Highway Department estimates the marginal cost of saving one human life at around 6-7 million dollars. That’s the amount of money you lose by reducing the speed limit, building more guard rails, straightening out curvy roads, etc – but these things have a cost. If you can only drive 50, it takes trucks longer to move across those life-veins of capitalism, the arterial highway system, to put goods in stores and money in banks and most importantly to put feet in malls. This is unaccceptable – thus, we’re willing to take the risk. This is what strikes me as a little bit silly about the whole pro-choice/pro-life thing: none of them really believe in what they’re saying. Pro-life people drive to rallies in SUVs; the entire wealthy white right wing is avidly pro-life and equally vehemently pro-capitalist. They have millions, often billions of dollars – yet they’re pissed off that a poor person doesn’t want to be saddled with 18 years of accidental hardship? Outrageous – something like 40 million people (real, live, kicking breathing thinking feeling people) die every year of starvation, and what’s more – it’s entirely fixable. According to the UN, it would take $30 billion a year to end world hunger. 30 billion! People spend that on summer houses! On yachts! On fucking artwork! Don’t ever say that abortion doctors are murderers when you drive a Cadillac – when you drive a fucking car at all. Absolutely nauseating. If God has some ace, first class fucking plan for every life that necessitates shooting an educated man in the back, which part of his fucking plan involves the entire population of France starving to death every year? Oh, but wait – those aren’t Christian babies, so it doesn’t count. Fucking hypocrites. If you go to a megachurch whose pastor has a 6 figure salary and you think abortion is a crime, you need to re-evaluate your fucking priorities. 

 

Digressions aside, the point of this post. My last couple entries have been detailing this growing divide I’m feeling, a sort of metaphysical distance from the people around me.  I’m not quite sure what to make of this – I’m honestly certain that it’s a sign that I’m either destined for genius or psychiatric illness. Maybe both. Maybe one and then the other, although that usually doesn’t work as well. This latest experience occurred this evening, as I was sitting in the hot tub at our gym, trying very hard to avoid the swarms of (hopefully) just-barely-potty-trained toddlers storming the spa like it was the west coast of France. Once the little monsters had settled down, I was watching them play and talk amongst one another, and had this very surreal experience of watching some sort of animal – like I was recognizing features of what was certainly a living organism, but not one that I shared any particular traits or commonalities with. The experience was unsettling, to say the least, and while I tried to shake it off, I found myself entirely unable to generate any sort of empathy for anyone in the pool – even adults. It was like being on a human safari. The question occurred to me then, which, try as I might, I was entirely unable to either answer comfortably nor purge from my mind: Given the choice between saving the life of a random child and ten thousand dollars, which would I pick?

Well? Which would you pick? This is the basis for my anti-humanism. That child is one in six billion – contrary to the anti-abortionists’ argument, the chances that he’ll cure cancer, or even do anything nominally “positive” for mankind as a whole are extremely slim. He won’t write the next great American novel, he won’t stop a nuclear detonation. In all likelihood, he will grow up and lead an entirely non-descript life. He will probably lie, he will probably steal, he will probably break hearts and pick on his classmates. He’ll probably believe in God and the American way and that people at the bottom deserve it. He might drink too much, sell drugs; he might even kill someone. All these things are infinitely more likely than a positive impact on the world. It’s just a human life. But, before this turns into a debate of human rights versus statistics, we’ve got to resolve my own moral quandary. What would I do with ten thousand dollars? Nothing special, I assure you – I don’t think that I can save the world, bring peace to the middle east, any of that shit. It’s $10,000. People spend that on dinner. But it would make my life significantly better, at least for a time – which is more than I can say for saving a kid. Christ knows there are enough people on this planet already – it’s not like we’re begging for more polluters and crop consumers. 

That’s not to say this is a universal situation – if it were my kid, or my brother’s kid, or even a close friend of mine’s kid, then it’s an entirely different story. $10,000 isn’t worth family, and what’s more, I have a pretty high estimation of the gene pools around me – the likelihood of killing or suffering as a result of this act decreases significantly.

This thought was (is) depressing to me – I can’t be certain if I’ve alienated myself from the people I know, or if I’m peering through the veil. It’s like I was adopted into the wrong species, and I just found out. Unclear. This is particularly hard for me to reconcile because it’s such a dramatic swing from the sort of transcendental consciousness feelings I used to experience – the kind where you can look around a room and feel an affinity with every face. I’m not sure that it’s entirely indicative of a lack of empathy; I’m still deeply troubled by the thought of suffering on the part of any creature, but I can’t seem to regard humans with the sort of sacro-sanctity that our society requires. This has been a slippery slope for me; I’ve been demolishing most of my meta-religions for almost a year now, and I’m slightly afraid to find out where this will lead.

I wonder if this is the beginning of genius or a breakdown.