The last few years we’ve been inundated with horror stories from the abortion industry.
We had Kermit Gosnell in Philadelphia running his slaughterhouse, actually murdering live-born children, and causing the deaths of women through his negligence. We saw the Susan Komen Foundation bullied into supporting the abortion industry even though science suggests a clear relation between abortion and the very thing Komen tries to fight, increased risks of breast cancer. We watched, horrified, as abortion industry executives sold children’s body parts with little remorse as if those tiny arms and organs were carburetors or corn flakes. Finally, we turned away in disgust as our Congress cowered before the abortion lobby.
Why do we, American society, tolerate and even support such carnage? Why haven’t the American people risen in righteous anger at such a travesty? It’s a fair question here in the month that gave us Roe v. Wade.
There seems to be, in the human psyche, a terrible reluctance to gaze closely at horrific scenes. Oh sure, we all “rubber neck” as we drive by an accident scene, but then we drive away and leave the scene behind. We’re not really involved, and we scurry back to our comfortable lives.
But, when it comes to something so compelling, so gut wrenching, that we have no choice but to take action, we’re a bit reticent. Some things are so horrible that we can’t bear to deal with them, at least on any kind of a continual basis. They are so awful that we raise our defenses and turn our faces away. If we pretend that we don’t notice it, maybe we won’t have to deal with it. It’s a bit like whistling past a graveyard on a dark night, and so it is with abortion.
It’s human nature. Many were silent in this country about the evil of human slavery. Thousands in Nazi Germany were silent about the Holocaust. Granted, the stakes were high for any who spoke up, but then great good usually comes at a dear price.
This whole scale “ignoring” of the problem breeds ignorance, and ignorance is the ally of those who would continue the slaughter. It’s easy to hear the “sound-bites”, the propaganda of the other side. There’s the “war on women”, “reproductive rights”, and “women’s health care”…We’ve heard them all. But, we have to work hard to find the truth and to be armed with facts. We have to inconvenience ourselves.
If we allow ourselves to realize that in the U.S. we abide the butchery of a million human beings a year, some fifty-six million since Roe v. Wade, we will be forced to take action, and we fear the costs of that action. If we examine the misery of the mothers who suffer post-abortion syndrome we will be forced by human decency to throw our arms and our support around a wounded cohort of our countrymen. It won’t be convenient or comfortable. And if we take a stand for the sanctity of human life, we may just have to change our lifestyles. For too long we’ve listened to the siren song of sex without commitment and life without inconvenience. American society may not appreciate our efforts.
But, what will we tell our children if we do nothing about the carnage? When they inherit a nation without regard for their lives, will we feel guilty that we had a chance to change things, but it was just too much trouble?
The biblical story of Saul gives us a hint. As the mob stoned Stephen to death, Saul held their cloaks. He didn’t actually throw any stones; he wasn’t directly involved. He just made it convenient for those who did. He didn’t raise his voice to stop the murder. Do you think he shared in the guilt?
Edmund Burke had it right. “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.” If we don’t make a heroic stand against abortion, history and history’s God may well judge us harshly.
David Russell is a practicing veterinarian, a veteran of 29 years in the U.S. Army, and the author of “Through My Father’s Eyes” (Tate Publishing), a study of the entire abortion question. He is a strong proponent that the abortion debate is NOT a “women’s issue”, but a human issue. Dr. Russell lives with his wife, Judy, in the Shenandoah Valley.
