Open to Life?
Emily Yoffe writes the “Dear Prudence” column for Slate magazine. In her latest installment, she talks about how she received a letter from a woman in her mid-30s who was about to marry a wonderful man. Neither of them wanted children, and wanted to know how to fend off inevitable questions. After offering some advice, Yoffe made a mild suggestion–rooted in her own experience–that the couple may want to reconsider that decision not to have children. What followed was a flood of vituperative e-mails applying a range of adjectives to Yoffe’s advice: “hurtful,” “offensive,” “appalling,” “shocking.” Yoffe reflects:
The majority of letter-writers were not single but happily married and professionally successful—the people you’d expect would make wonderful parents, and in a previous generation probably would have. Many didn’t just write about the adult pleasures of their childless (or “childfree”) life—travel, restaurants, undamaged upholstery, sex in the living room—but expressed contempt for those deluded enough to want to reproduce. As one woman wrote: “My husband and I are childless by choice and I heartily encourage all younger friends to consider it. It is the most wonderful lifestyle, free of whining and sniveling and mini-vans.”
What is going on when there is so much scorn for parenthood—the way a society perpetuates itself? Fertility rates are much in the news these days. The United States is rare among developed nations in that it is still producing children at a replacement rate. But many countries collectively agree with the people who wrote to me—that children are a tantrum wrapped in a diaper and not worth the trouble. So, Germany, Italy, Japan, and Spain, among others, are going down the demographic tubes, with shrinking pools of young workers to support growing masses of seemingly immortal retirees.
One of the achievements of Catholic theology in the 20th century was a recovery of the importance of the unitive dimension of marital sexuality. For quite a few centuries, that dimension had been seen as secondary to the “primary end” of marriage, i.e. children. The idea that both of these dimensions have equal importance was recognized at Vatican II and is–some might be surprised to learn–also contained in Paul VI’s Humanae Vitae.
But in our present age, we seem to be moving in the opposite direction, toward an understanding of marriage that sees the unitive dimension as primary and the procreative dimension as secondary. As Yoffe’s correspondents make clear, in some cases it’s a very far second, if it hasn’t been abandoned entirely. This, too, is an imbalance that needs to be corrected.
“Martial” sexuality, Peter? Nice Freudian slip—really a mispelling. There may be a marketing opportunity there.
The slate respondees are surely in the minority. A world without children is a world without springtime, without poetry, etc. etc.
On the other hand, some people have children for selfish reasons. Yet by and large, biology is fierce in its protection of one’s offspring. This is the reason foster parents are so problematic, though many times successful.
Same for nursing homes.
Children used to be necessary to sustain the family and still are for nations. The RCC has been accused for centuries to be against population control so that their ranks would not diminish. In that light the Muslims are a distant threat.
Not having children decreases the longevity of the marriage and paradoxically, after children the happiness in marriage diminishes.
Thanks for catching the spelling error. I have fixed it in the original post.
The feelings of those writing to Yoffe may be a minority, but the intensity of the feelings expressed still takes one aback a bit. My sister has five children, and when she takes them out in public together, you’d be amazed at the kind of comments complete strangers make to her.
My wife’s parents also took a trip to Italy a few years ago to see some relatives, and found some families with two children who referred to their second child as a “spare.” It was obviously meant to be a joke, but sometimes humor is telling.
Beyond the unitive and procreative dimensions of marital sexuality, any significant increase in the “childfree” lifestyle will not augur well for increasing the number of adoptions in the U.S. and throughout the world. The argument can be made, of course, that adherents of the childfree philosophy shouldn’t be parents in any event, but with scores of children needing a good home, I can’t help thinking that the childfree choice is at least in part a reflection of the “me first” attitude that saturates western culture.
It’s painful to read the kind of comments Ms. Yoffe received in response to her encouragement to couples to reconsider the choice to be childless.
As a Catholic who is both an advocate and promoter of Catholic sexual ethics I can say that I am not surprised that the norm is not to see children as a threat to happiness, health, and well-being in general.
I do wonder–and please don’t flame me, I’m asking honestly–what Catholics who are opposed to the Church’s teaching on contraception in particular, and who have a rather dim view of sexual ethics in general, make of this. Having aided and abetted the trend toward viewing fertility and pregancy as diseases that should be medically treated, do they feel any responsibility at all for the culture that has been created in which little persons are viewed as objects rather than persons–and undesirable persons at that?
I’m honestly not trying to be provocative (a shock , I know). But, for instance; Peter, you and I have debated the Church’s stance on contraception and NFP before. Looking at the sociological and cultural fruit that contraception is bearing, do you feel as confident that the Church is misguided as you once did? What about the other folks who have looked askance at the Church on this? Do you feel as certain of yourselves? Do you feel responsible? Why or why not?
Thank you for considering my question.
Greg
I apologize for the poor grammar. I have 10 mins between meetings to post. Grammar and spelling are the victims of my time constraints.
G
It is obvious that effective means of contraception will tend to divorce sexual intimacy from childbearing. But one can argue that this is an abuse of contraceptive devices, and abuse does not prove the illegitimacy of use (abusus non tollit usum). Pain killers, for example, can easily be abused. That does not show that they should never be used. Please note that I am not here arguing that contraception is ever legitimate, merely that the possibility of what we may agree is misuse is not a prove that there is no legitimate use.
Greg:
It’s always a pleasure to cross swords…er, pens…uh, keyboards with you…:-)
It might surprise you to learn that I am not entirely in disagreement with you. I think that those, for example, who would criticize Humane Vitae must reckon honestly with what human beings have done as they have gained greater mastery over human fertility. I’m thinking here not merely of the phenomenon of childlessness, but also things like pre-implantation genetic diagnosis, the abortion of children with genetic diseases or for purposes of sex-selection, and the creation of embryos to provide genetic material for scientific experimentation. I think there is a very real question of whether human beings can be entrusted with this kind of power over human reproduction. Are any moral limits to be placed on this power, and if so, what should they be? What would it mean if we really did treat our power to bring forth new life with the respect and reverence it deserves?
The debate you and I had back in 2002 (interested readers can Google “NFP Sursum Corda” to find my posts) was on a more narrow issue, which was whether the sharp moral distinction drawn between NFP and artificial contraception was tenable. At the time, I pointed out that it had been the majority theological opinion for several centuries that to engage in intercourse without the intent to procreate was at the very least a venial sin. This changed in the early 20th century when the Church accepted that limiting intercourse to periods when the woman was likely to be infertile could be morally licit.
What I continue to wrestle with is that this seems to render intent morally irrelevant. Those who practice NFP do so precisely because they are interested in spacing their children. They wish to enjoy the unitive dimension of specific conjugal acts without those acts resulting in the birth of a child. If this was not their intent, they would hardly be bothering with the labor of tracking menstrual cycles, measuring basal body temperature, and assessing the consistency of cervical mucus. Your counter to this was that NFP works with the God-given natural process of human reproduction while artificial contraception interferes with that process. My response was to ask why human beings are allowed to interfere with other God-given natural processes, but not this one.
Do I feel that raising these questions makes me responsible for the anti-child mentality evidenced by Yoffe’s correspondents? No, I don’t. Catholics have been wrestling with these questions for decades. The Church’s teaching on contraception is meant to be a truth grounded in the natural law, accessible to reason. While I find some of the reasoning compelling, I struggle with other aspects of it. I don’t think I do any service to the Church by hiding that struggle, particularly when so many other Catholics seem to share my difficulties.
Always a pleasure talking to you, Greg. I’m taking a course on the New Natural Law theory this fall. If my views should change—and I am always open to the possibility of intellectual conversion—you’ll be the first to know…:-)
It seems that the seeds of (Western) civilizational suicide are blowing across the Atlantic and finding (in)fertile soil. I would expect well-educated professionals to realize that their vision of the good life, as expressed by their opposition to Yoffe’s most heartening advice is ultimately unsustainable.
Sorry to be confessional here, but when you’re talking about parenthood, but I don’t think you can take the kinderundfreundlichkeit of some Yoffe’s correspondents at face value.
I was one of those people who never wanted to have kids. I did not feel I’d be a good parent because my own parents had a lot of problems. I was afraid I’d be bored with kids or was too materialistic to be a good parent. I did not feel I had any natural maternal instincts. I did not know what to do with my young nieces and nephews. The way my sisters-in-law goo-gooed to their kids set my teeth on edge. I often paraphrased Dorothy Parker, “Hell is other people’s kids.”
I sometimes bad-mouthed parenthood and children to friends and relatives because it was just easier to say “I hated kids” than to go into any of the real reasons I didn’t want to be a parent.
I got surprised by a pregnancy at age 41. I still do not feel I am a “natural” parent. I feel I make too many mistakes. I argue with my husband a lot more, and almost all these arguments are child-related.
I made the mvoe from Anglicanism to Catholicism, something I’d thought about for years, when my son went to a Catholic preschool. The director was a living saint and gave voice to the things I think Catholics should be talking more about, like what our children teach us, the way they connect us to life and the rest of the human race, and how they make us better.
Ironically, the worst sideline critics I’ve ever had as a mother were the other moms at the same daycare and Catholic school. Interesting that those pushing parenthood are also the people who aren’t very supportive of other parents.
I would not trade one day without my son for the world. Even the worst days have been the best of my life. But not in a way that would seem persuasive to anyone without kids.
Why are only men talking about this, anyway?
I should have qualified one of my statements: SOME of the people pushing parenthood the hardest are those who aren’t very supportive of other parents.
Don’t mean to make blanket, condemnatory statements about Catholic moms.
Jean, thank you for sharing your experience. As a father of four, my youngest having been born when I was 39, much of your experience resonates. I am deeply suspicious of “natural parent.” There is no such being. We tend to be inherently selfish and there is nothing that calls us beyond ourselves more than parenting. It is truly a case of grace building on and perfecting nature.