The Purple Thread

The Purple Thread

Glasgow High School, 1999

Iʼve been invited today to speak to you about my personal convictions.  I’m pretty flattered to do this because although I’ve always respected the beliefs I hold, I used to think of them as simply a sensible option and that everyone surely thought the same. So to be asked to come here to share my personal beliefs with you at this time in your life when you might be grappling with your own and working them out, is indeed an honour. I understand in this series of talks you've already heard from some more typical religious viewpoints, so perhaps what I have to say may balance that out.    

First, it’s important to stress that any convictions I’ll talk to you about, I didn’t invent, I’ve just made a selection and collected them from the host of viewpoints, attitudes and stances I’ve been confronted with throughout my life. Shaping beliefs is a lifetime occupation and with me it started in my toddler years, then once at your age my curiosity surged, that’s when I could sense definitive contours emerging.  And the more experience and years I gain, the more I realise beliefs and values need continual nurturing, they need on-going examination and they need constant reinforcement -  and there are few people willing to go to these lengths.  

My worldview identifies me as a Philosophical Naturalist, that's a mouthful but it simply means I look for answers to anything in life within the natural realm, rather than a supernatural one. For those who share my worldview, Nature is all there is, and it’s where all answers lie, so its where I’m compelled to look to make sense of the world, to explain why it’s full of diseases, why we share it with fellow animals and why it always surprises me.  

The nature I witness around me cares nothing for feelings, it has no interest whatever in confirming my prejudices or affirming my delusions. Beliefs glimpsed through a veil of faith and reserved for a group of elect followers seem to me to overlook the obvious.  Whereas, Nature recognises no elect sect to reveal its secrets, all there is to know awaits being discovered by anyone who takes the trouble to investigate and it's only through arduous investigation (and not from the latest celebrity fashions or attitudes) that humankind can advance.

I’m also a Hard Determinist which means I believe the concept of free will is flawed or non-existent and that human beings are simply the result of a long chain of cause and effect circumstances. Inevitably this leads to my conviction that all our choices must have a basis either in our physical make-up, our mental state and our experiences of life and whether these faculties are inherited, nurtured or happen purely randomly these realities are what drive us towards every choice and decision we make, no matter if we are acquiescing to the norm or railing against it.  

For me, it’s a simple and indisputable fact that when we come to make our decisions, none of us can reach outside our biological, our physiological and our neurological parameters, we didn't choose any of them and we simply cannot rise above these practical human constraints that determine our parents, our looks, our temperament, our susceptibility to diseases, to addictions and so on. These parameters have provided us with our personal attributes good or bad. And we are guided by them, we are driven by them and we follow and adhere to them with every decision and every change we make in our life. To pretend we can act outside of them, be something or somebody we are not, or give any other explanation for our actions would render us with super human abilities. Because, where else did this supposed free will come from, did it fly in through the window and land inside our head?  

I’ve listened for decades to opposing arguments, so far, none have offered me convincing evidence to dispute the simple truth that the concept of free will, ie the ability to make free independent choices without reference to any of the personal aspects we've been endowed with, is an illusion. We certainly make choices yes of course we do, but every one of them is based on, is driven and influenced by all these personal characteristics I've just mentioned. Our human constraints, the ginger hair, the perpetual joker, the hard worker, the convict and so on make us individual, they render us unique and make us who we are.

Although not always, for the most part, I’m a Stoic.  Stoicism is an ancient set of beliefs that are used to guide one's actions. For example, a Stoic would say that instead of complaining about obstacles that we find in our path of ambitions, we should be grateful for them, even welcome them because it's these obstacles that force us to contemplate and find a way out or through them.  And, when we we overcome that obstacle and achieve success once, we can use that same strategy repeatedly and it will eventually provide us with a resilient attitude to all of our life's harsh realities. So instead of fearing these difficulties, problems or tests, we should confront them and set about solving them - a Stoic would say there's always a way. The uncertain nature of life coupled with a this outlook strengthens the spirit and provides me - and anyone who adopts it - with a mental and physical sturdiness to countenance all that life can throw at us. 

These are some of my views and they are for sure stark views, they eschew the flowery or fashion and they tend to be unwavering.  For those with flimsier beliefs like the existence of angels, or how crystals can heal us of diseases or that the gargantuan universe is tuned into the feelings and aspirations of a single person living on a small, mundane planet, these to me are shoddy or insubstantial beliefs. Nevertheless such beliefs represent personal convictions that can mean everything to their host because without them reality for some would be hard to bear and holding fast to such beliefs provides a grounding post when life tosses them around. So, I’m not exceptional in sticking to my beliefs and although I’m almost completely convinced they’re right, that's not entirely convinced so I leave the intellectual door ajar because - I could be wrong.  

As you can hear, these are not simple or everyday beliefs, they’re replete with intricate details that’s taken me a lifetime to settle on. They also forbid me from accepting that anything in life is inevitable because if there’s one consistent principle I’ve relied upon, it’s that there's always space for one rebel variable that defies all expectations - and makes things go wrong with alarming regularity.

For me, adhering to a philosophy that provides an external check on my actions is vital. When it’s time for me to be selfless, to seek objectivity and realism, I know I must be cautious because my personal dreams and aspirations often get in the way. I’m not alone in finding that just when I need them most, my reason and rationality take a holiday and I get emotional and make mistakes, sometimes serious and unfixable mistakes.  So, Naturalism gives me an impartial source against which I can test my ideas and one that yells at me in my heart and in my head when I allow my emotional self to take charge.  

I think that coming to a conclusion on any subject should not just be about declaring what our beliefs are, like saying I don’t believe in capital punishment because it’s wrong or I believe the planet is 6,000 years old because one group of people insist that it is, but that any conclusion that leads to a firm belief should be able to show every empirically-based and ratified step it took to get there. 

My views cannot embody the one and only truth there is to be found because there are many equally valid dimensions of life waiting to be explored. These discoveries may be found in some of our socially constructed systems of meaning like expressing ourselves through art, time invested in sports or indulging in our sensual selves. These are all essential to a rich understanding of what it means to be alive and human. So maybe tomorrow, I will follow one of these routes and so alter my beliefs somewhat. But I doubt I would alter them in any substantive way.  For all practical purposes, reality, I mean that which exists prior to and independent of us, insists that even with a richer understanding of life’s bounties, I would most likely limit my beliefs in the way I’ve described. If I did not insist on evidence, the snake-oil salesfolk would be able to sell me any old story at all, and I would be bereft of any buffer that could test or challenge them.  

There are many who object to imposing such limitations on our understanding of the natural world.  And most of these objections rest on the confidence that there exists a more profound, ineffable and life-altering truth about the world beyond the clouds awaiting discovery. Well, maybe there is, but if after 200,000 odd years of human searching with the utmost assiduous perseverance, not a sliver of this elusive truth has yet manifest, I reckon it’s time to look elsewhere.  

Another regular objection I often hear about my beliefs is that without the supernatural realm, the universe is devoid of wonder, awe, meaning or purpose. And I’m always asked questions like: Donʼt you long to be a part of something bigger than yourself? Don't you want your life to be significant, rather than thinking of yourself as a collection of atoms?  

For me, Naturalism presents me with a world more profound than any other. It tells me that the same atoms that make up my body were once in the heart of a star. In some distant solar furnace hydrogen atoms fused together to make the heavier elements that are required for life. When that star died and the elements were subsumed into the vastness of space, eventually time and gravity brought them together again to form new stars and planets. 

And on at least one of these planets we call Earth, a handful of atoms began to do something extraordinary.  By no other force than the laws of physics as we know them, macro-molecules formed long chains that were prompted by their chemistry to make crude copies of themselves. The first cells formed and began to divide, others stuck together leading to the first multi-cellular organisms. Some of these cells evolved limbs and antennae also some patches were sensitive to heat and pressure, that meant this newly-formed entity gave that part of the universe the ability to feel.  Other cells evolved a very thin membrane, thin enough to let light through and when turned in the direction of its source their light sensitivity meant this small part of the universe eventually evolved to see. Much later when more sophisticated human organisms evolved to use language, that allowed them to record and pass on their experiences. And once their brains increased and their minds became more enquiring, they could look at themselves in the mirror and ask ‘who and where am I?’ I believe the answer is we are an evolved part of this whole universe, and at this moment and in this place, we exist in the humanised form of pupils of Glasgow High and a visiting speaker and we are presently communicating. So essentially what you and me are, or what I believe we represent, is the universe talking to itself. 

So to the person who asks me whether I want to be part of something bigger than myself, I say: Each one of us symbolises the latest stage in complex chemical, electrical and social reactions that have been taking place for billions of years. We represent an unbroken chain of heredity that unites us to every other living thing on this planet and beyond. Yes, we are simply a collection of atoms, but atoms with awareness: Yes, we're just matter, but matter that can ask questions and make meaning. As The Cosmologist, Prof Carl Sagan put it "You are a way for the universe to know itself" So I ask you, how could I, how could we, ever be part of anything bigger than that? 

I believe we're all just insignificant specks of stardust then? Yes, I do.  Weʼre small, that’s for sure and our existence is short.  But that star of ours, the one thatʼs been around for a couple of billion years before we were born and will remain for millions of years after we die,—our sun, magnificent as it is, can it dream? can it strum a guitar? can it experience the pleasure of playing around in the snow? Do any of the stars in our galaxy ever wake up in the morning and decide to write a song that will ring in the ears of generations to come, In fact, can any one star feel a single thing? As far as we know, no, they can't.  Without sentient life there are no feelings and no state of affairs preferable to any other, and no such thing as value or meaning. But introduce a physical body with a brain and mind that can recognise itself in the mirror and everything changes. Suddenly value, meaning and feelings all come alive. 

Itʼs been so long now since we've all been looking to an impotent sky for clues to answer lifeʼs puzzles, that we've failed to grasp the obvious right in front of us. We might depend on that star for our survival but what we actually have is a co-dependency because the star needs us too. We give it significance. The sun is important to us because it gives us life, but then it’s our human consciousness that gives that star and our planet its worthiness. The entire cosmos as we know it, is made significant to us and through us.  How big a deal  is that?

But, just look at how so-called intelligent beings have written the story so far.  We inherited a planet and we’ve trashed it; we’ve got each other for support and consolation yet we never stop killing one another.   As for our animal companions, our actions to them are so severely debauched, I can’t even bear to recount them.  

So, let’s hope that the final chapter in the human story will take us to better outcomes, because if it doesn’t, to any who come after us, I do believe we’ll go down in the history of the universe as an embarrassment, a failed experiment.  

Naturalists like me who want to live ethically in a natural world, have a formidable task before us. You see, if there are no gods, then humanity has no guarantee of a happy ending. We must solve our own problems and up till now we just don't seem up to the job. Itʼs true, some pioneers have made incredible advancements since we started out; we've cured diseases, tripled life-expectancy, and through the power of our technology weʼve given even the remotest corners of the world the ability to connect to every other corner. Three cheers for that. But thus far we’ve also narrowly escaped annihilating ourselves with nuclear weapons and even without them we’re still well on our way to human annihilation.  Our destructive greed has trodden a path that must be tempting for the planet to get rid of us at the earliest opportunity because by ridding itself of the vandalous nature of humankind, it might preserve itself in better nick. 

Our tale of destruction is difficult for any caring person to read when each page is saturated with violence, greed and hatred.  Still, although the read might be uncomfortable, we shouldn’t close the book just yet. If we read the small print we can see that it also contains scores of individuals who stand apart from all the ugliness and create some beauty spots here and there. From tiny gestures of kindness to heroic acts of compassion they are the ones who redeem the human narrative, or at the very least make its reading more palatable. Right now each one of you here today in this school is writing your own contribution to the current page of the book, whether your efforts inspire different generations only time will tell. 

So, let me finish with a ‘mise en abyme’  an apposite tale within a tale, an account of inspiring beliefs reported by the Stoic philosopher Epictetus. The story goes that Emperor Nero had a twisted sense of humour. He used to write plays where the characters performed a range of humiliating and degrading acts. He would then cast prominent members of Roman society into these roles and have them perform before large audiences. Anyone who refused to play Neroʼs sick game was promptly executed. One time, the Roman Historian Florus and the Stoic philosopher Aggrippinus were both summoned by Nero to act in one of these plays. True to his philosophy the Stoic had no intention of taking part in such debasement. But Florus protested "If I refuse to participate in Nero's festival, heʼll kill me." "I still refuse" said the Stoic "but you feel free to go ahead" "But why are you taking this dangerous stance?" asked Florus, the answer was "because you think of yourself as no more than a thread in a robe, a thread whose duty it is to conform, just a single white thread like all the rest with no wish to clash with the others. Me, I aspire to be that one purple thread that stays true to its colour even though its inclusion makes it stand out. As I see it, the purple sets off the white robe, that one thread's existence makes the robe distinctive and individual. So, please donʼt tell me to be like the rest because then I couldnʼt be that purple thread." 

Such optimism isnʼt always a rational attitude. But neither is predicting the future, because we just never know.  So I believe when all said and done, the human story will in the end be an inspiring one. If itʼs not, I still admire those who didnʼt accept easy answers or bow to received wisdom, those who pursued what was found through meticulous and diligent investigation to be true and did good deeds not for any promises of reward or threats of misfortune, but out of a respect for life and their fellow travellers. If in the present we could emulate the Stoic hero of the past and no matter what our beliefs, find the courage when we see wrong-doing and to stand apart and say "please don't tell me to be like the rest” we could maybe change the world’s course and fix these wrongs. And that’s why in my own life I choose to uphold these beliefs and principles I’ve just described to you, I take whatever actions they drive me towards and I stand by their consequences because I too have opted to be a thread of a different colour.    

Now, I’m happy to answer any of your questions.

June Maxwell

at Glasgow High School, 1999

Something for Nothing

‘Something for Nothing’ 

Community Health Meeting (Maryhill)

The topic of this short presentation is welfare benefits and how they affect members of my community. Before I start, I’d like to briefly describe the famous (Marxist) principle: 

From each according to his ability

To each according to his need

This is the foundational proposition the welfare state in the UK was built upon. So, it doesn’t work like a private pension, where you get back what you’ve paid in. It fact it means some people will always get back more than they pay in and vice versa because some of us will be born chronically ill, yet be cared for from cradle to grave despite never being able to work. Others will work and pay taxes for decades, then die before retiring, so they never get a penny of their contributions back by way of a pension. The childless still pay for schools; people whose house has never burned down still pay for the fire service and those who’ve never been the victim of a crime still pay for the police.

Any competent welfare state is a collective endeavour where everyone who is able to pay does so and where those contributions are used for the benefit of all.  Societies can progress when they provide a safety net allowing everyone to contribute because it elevates them above the waterline where any fears of absolute penury are eliminated.  Of course the super-wealthy will always be protected from the misfortunes of homelessness or financial hardship, but life is precarious and at any time many in the middle can find themselves in adverse circumstances.  One day it could your your house burning, your child's school with no books, or your health that needs  professional attention.  

For the last 7 years I’ve been a welfare adviser for Citizens Advice Bureau (CAB) a job I’ve always enjoyed. For the last 3 of those years, I’ve worked in one of the most deprived areas of Scotland, Clydebank in West Dunbartonshire and so that area has been my adopted community. But recently, I decided to quit because I found my clients’ experiences of the UK’s benefit system were impacting severely not just on their health and wellbeing but on my own, and as far as I could tell, things were about to get a whole lot worse and I could see no way that Scotland could alter that prognosis.   

During my time at CAB, David Cameron was Prime Minister and his whole political team were at pains to tell the country that we were all living in a ‘something for nothing’ (SfN) society. The same mantra was repeated over and over again throughout his five year term, so that even the opposition, in the form of Johann Lamont declared that: 

“Scotland cannot continue to be the only SfN country in the world”. 

Getting something for nothing usually means obtaining it fraudulently or in exchange for no personal input, no effort and at no detriment to yourself. In the local vernacular it’s to be a scrounger, a skiver or work-shy. But this SfN phrase was born of conservative ideology and allowed to morph into a national philosophy as its passed through the hands of mainstream media outlets, those loyal and willing midwives of the British state.  So, just in case we don’t know who these scroungers are, we get TV programmes and newspaper stories devoted to them. They’re the ones who live in social housing, have lots of kids, never worked a day in their lives, and those who lead the life of Riley, all they have to do is to hold their hand out for free money. 

But hearing this kind of talk from politicians and the media didn’t quite reconcile with the testimonies I heard from my CAB clients about their ‘benefits’ and the hoops they had to jump through to get them and that bothered me. So, today I’d like to turn this SfN phrase into a question. Before doing so, I’d like to adjust your perspective by describing the other side of it, the side I’ve become familiar with, the one the caused me to quit my job, and that side is the first hand experiences of my clients.

First, the UK Treasury estimates that the amount they lost last year due to benefit fraud was around £1.4 billion with hundreds of employees directed to hound the perpetrators. Whereas, the amount the lost due to tax evasion was estimated around £6 billion with a handful of employees devoted to recuperating this bigger financial loss. There are of course people who do try to take advantage of the social security system, and there always will be, (eg I'm sure a few of my clients now and again had  additional sources of income), but compared to other financial loses, benefit fraud is minimal.  

Last year our local CAB produced a report on how welfare sanctions were impacting the people of Clydebank. We found that out of the hundreds of clients sanctioned by the Job Centre and left with no financial means of support, not one of these people was sanctioned for refusing a job. So, labelling all claimants as work-shy is untrue. Plus, in all my time at CAB I never once encountered a client who would prefer a lifetime of pleading for benefits if they had an alternative. 

In December last year, the DWP published figures that showed the number of appeals challenging decisions about a person’s fitness to work had dropped by 50%. I can say that even for experienced welfare advisors, these appeals are complicated and demeaning processes, so it was no surprise to me that so many of the vulnerable people who came to CAB felt they would rather give up and rely on friends and family to feed and house them (with the high risk of starvation and homelessness) as they plod through these soul-destroying appeals. 

Last month, the government’s own Work and Pensions Select Committee announced that 40 people had committed suicide because of problems with welfare payments in the last few years - I suspect the actual figure is much higher.  The reason for my thinking is that the first time a client told me they were going home to think of ways to kill themselves, I was shocked.  By the time I left the job, such comments had become commonplace.

The ‘something’ in the ‘something for nothing’ that Jobseekers get is around £70 a week and for those too sick to work, their benefit is slightly more than £100, so not a lot to live on. But, to get these amounts let’s consider the ‘nothing’ they’re said to do, in order to get it. 

Any kind of benefit requires a substantial amount of form-filling. And claimants from areas of high deprivation usually have low level literacy skills. That means completing official documents can be a daunting task, and when your livelihood depends on getting them right, your anxiety levels get ratcheted up to nerve-wracking. Then when you’ve made your best effort, handed the forms in personally, only to be told a week later that your claim has been ‘lost’’ - and often more than once, that’s when your already fragile mental health can take a further knock and you can fall into a state of despair and depression or frustration and anger (for which you will get an immediate sanction imposed). But, apparently this is ‘nothing’. 

When you have no computer or broadband and minimal computing skills, yet you’re obliged to go online every day to look for work, and a lot of the local library computers are ‘not working’, what then? And, when you do get online but you’re not sure about what you’re doing and there’s no one around to help, but you have a deadline to meet or a sanction is waiting - again, this plays havoc with already poor mental health. But that too is nothing. 

When you have to walk all the way to the nearest food bank and all they have left is a large potato, and you’re too embarrassed to refuse it, but you know you’ve got no means of cooking this because you’ve got no money for the expensive pre-payment meter. So, you thank them and take the potato and go hungry again, getting desperate thinking what you or your kids are going to eat. 

When you’re an older widower who’s still got a foreign accent from your former country and the young people at the Job Centre are raising their voice to you while you’re trying to explain you were given an appointment for this time, you’re even holding up the card their co-worker gave you, but they’re not looking at it, they’re just shouting at you that you need to leave there, now. This scene is taking place in full view of everyone yet no one intervenes, and you’re fighting to hold back tears, tears of fear and shame at what you (a former decorated Maths teacher) have been reduced to, but so what, that’s nothing. 

The DWP often use the graphic of the Social Model of Health that shows the main determinants for living a healthy life. One of the primary aspects of this is the socio-economic environment of the individual. So one has to wonder whether these socio-economic benefit-seeking experiences my clients endure improve or reduce their chance of good health. 

To be awarded sick or disability benefits means running a different gauntlet where the destination that awaits also holds misery and anguish, it’s just the route that changes.  Like the middle-aged man on disability who needs to go to hospital for kidney dialysis 3 times a week, yet the assessment panel have found him ‘fit for work’ which makes him start to panic so that as well as his physical disability, he now can’t sleep for worrying about how his dwindling finances will allow him to travel to the Job Centre. His cash allowance for that week has been used up, and he has no other means of support and can’t get anybody on the phone that will talk to him to relieve a bit of his distress.

And the woman in her early 60s, who has multiple health conditions and has long since been crippled with arthritis in her hands and feet, so that she can only walk with the help of two sticks and lives in chronic pain. She’s gone through the embarrassment of having her personal and private health conditions exposed to a panel of non-medical strangers and for non-medical purposes, and at the end they’ve awarded her zero points, so she’s now expected to look for work or lose her benefits, and to say she’s terrified, is an accurate description, so day and night she's now obsessed with thoughts of how to end her life and escape. 

Politicians tell us all these experiences are nothing. Well, maybe they’re nothing to those who have fat salaries to shield them from the harsher realities of life, but I know they’re not nothing to the people of Clydebank who come looking for help. 

For that community to be entitled to a slice of the welfare cake, the ‘something for nothing’ their accused of gobbling up, whether it’s a food handout, a hardship payment, or the bare minimum of funds to survive, they have to be prepared to be humiliated, punished, bullied, lied to, shamed, complete endless complicated forms, use phone lines that are always engaged while dreading their phone minutes will run out, and be prepared to hear the media refer to them as scroungers and worse. And they have to do all this without ever committing even the smallest of errors, or their welfare lifeline will be severed at once. So they live in perpetual fear of starvation or destitution. Many have even given their lives while engaging in an endurance test to get the merest crumbs of welfare support in what we call our civilised society. 

So my question to you today is - is this ‘nothing’? 

June Maxwell

May, 2015

I'm a Believer

I’m a Believer

Few things matter more to people than their personal beliefs, and that’s true of me and my beliefs. They’re central to me. I ponder them every day; I nurture and expand them by discussing them with people of similar beliefs; I try my best to live by them in everything I do and I cannot imagine ever changing them. In fact the older I become, the more convinced I am of their veracity. So, I’m very definitely, a believer.

Those who share my beliefs are the fastest growing segment of society. But, though we share the same beliefs, we don’t share the same name, so some of us are called: Atheists, Freethinkers, Skeptics, Humanists, Rationalists or Naturalists which is my own worldview. I don’t mind answering to any of the other names though depending on the occasion, but one term I do object to is: ‘unbeliever’, because as I said before, I’m very definitely a believer.

And as a naturalist, many of my views are solid and definite. For example, I believe people are born neither good nor bad, that they become what their genetic inheritance, their upbringing and their life’s experiences shape them to become and I believe that under the same set of circumstances, any one of us would have turned out the same way.

I believe there are three main human endeavours in life worth pursuing - the gaining of knowledge, the cultivation of virtue and empowering the powerless. The rest is just embroidery.

I believe stances based in ignorance breed cultures of violence and retribution and that these two outlooks have always been the greatest hindrances to human progress. I believe humanity could take great strides forward if only all the women of the world were taught how their bodies and brains work and they avoided being indoctrinated by the many myths and superstition that surround them. I believe friends need to be chosen carefully because good ones can make for a healthy and happy life and bad ones can set us on a path to destruction.

I believe scientists make mistakes, that a few of them are corrupt and some are mercenary, despite that, I believe the only way for ordinary people to learn how the world works is for scientists to employ an empirical method of investigation using reason, observation and experiment, and to pass on their results - like smoking causes cancer; human activities are causing the earth’s climate to change; vaccinations work. All examples of the type of knowledge that can save us from ourselves.

My personal knowledge on how to reduce anxiety helps me through stressful times and the moral code that I’ve deliberated over for decades guides my interactions with other people. So, like everyone else, my beliefs help me navigate through life; they’re well entrenched in my brain and all my actions and my future goals are guided by them.

It's not a general lack of beliefs then which earn me the epithet of ‘unbeliever’—rather it’s because I’ve developed a rather cynical mind and I reject beliefs that have no basis in the harsh reality to which we insist all other facets of our life must conform. To live a modern life means being accustomed to questioning everything from a builder’s quote on our house extension to a consultant’s opinion about our appendix. We hold these opinions up to rigorous scrutiny and that seems eminently sensible to me. So I have no use for beliefs based on ‘faith‘ alone, for me they have no validity. One compelling reason I reject them is that they’re wide open, there’s no limit or exception to what their content can be, and that to me is quite scary. Also, although such beliefs like the effects of prayer or presence of angels repeatedly fail practical tests, their followers continue to endlessly repeat the same claims. This level of repeated failure would spell extinction for beliefs if they were outside the faith zone.

This is not to deny such beliefs any currency at all, I understand that many people don’t share my approach or apply my demanding criteria to belief claims and they seem quite content and indeed happy to hold beliefs that rest on flimsier foundations but that also makes such beliefs attractive to lazy thinkers. And that’s fine by me, people ought to be free to apply their own criteria and believe whatever gives them comfort. But the question is, should these untested beliefs be given the same degree of esteem from society that they get? I think it’s unfair that they do. Worse still, around the world, it’s people like me, labeled ‘non-believers’ who are more likely to be treated with suspicion or disdain.

If faith beliefs were restricted to the private realm and to groups of similar believers who don’t mind accepting premises and ideas on a basis of trust and personal experience, they would cause me and my ilk no apprehension at all. But usually they are not restricted in this way, instead faith followers continuously concern themselves with the morality of others, insisting that me and others like me, live by the same moral codes they have accepted for themselves (or sometimes only publicly pretending to accept while privately behaving otherwise).

The coupling of faith with morality has through time become traditional so faith organizations are often viewed by many as a place of sanctuary. Troubled and vulnerable people are no doubt glad to hear that someone big and powerful loves them and are happy to take refuge under the shelter of faith. But history and modern revelations has shown that there are also charlatans and wrong-doers who use the status of faith as a shield and to find a safe place to skulk.

In any other area of life, people who declared themselves followers of a belief that was patently absurd might be treated with ridicule. But the respect faith is given provides a barrier that stops any scorn in its tracks, so a faith environment still has the ability to provide cover for all manner of snake-oil salesfolk hiding behind its veil of respectability. Even though many faith claims are less about the way the world works and usually more about the way the minds of their individual leaders work.

Mind you, this deferential attitude to faith has recently started to crumble, but challengers who demand more equality from the faith institutions are usually swatted away as mere ‘strident or aggressive’ atheists.

So, for these reasons, although naturalists believe in many things we cannot accept a belief just because it’s traditional. And we don’t put much stock in the words of self-proclaimed prophets or miraculous cures. But, we cannot dismiss the beliefs of Sikhs, yet uphold those of Jews, Homeopaths, or Christians. We must subject all claims to the same standards of examination and verification.

Nevertheless, because naturalists reason in this way, we‘re often accused of arrogance, for trusting our own human judgment over sacred truths. But, for me this way of reasoning seems modest. I believe it derives from an appreciation of human frailties; a willingness to be self-critical and an attempt to approach the world with honesty and some personal dignity. And to make such appraisals is no easy task, it asks as much of our personal characteristics as it does of our intellect. It requires a open approach when judging divergent viewpoints; it requires integrity to consider our own beliefs by the same standards we judge others; it needs the patience to suspend any judgment until we learn all the facts; it requires persistence to think through difficult issues; it requires courage to insist on evidence before drawing conclusions and it requires flexibility to change our minds if our beliefs are thrown into doubt by the latest discoveries.

Of course, setting standards this high, means we need to proceed with caution. People are not altogether rational creatures and the one sure weakness we all share is our fallibility. So we must apply the same impartial benchmarks to our own reasoning as we do to that of others. For naturalists, no old-fashioned holy book gives us a basis to rise to such a challenge, only the book of nature can do that because nature cares nothing for feelings; it has no interest in confirming prejudices or personal impressions. It recognises no elect groupings and reveals its secrets to any who take the trouble to investigate. On the other hand, claims that are held erect by a faith- scaffold and reserved for a select group of believers are forever endangered when cultures evolve to the sway of the contemporary zeitgeist.

I say then that people can do no better than to limit their beliefs to natural explanations of life because the basis of naturalistic beliefs is unconcealed; it can be forthrightly proclaimed and spoken about explicitly, there is no need to cloak it in secrecy or mystery and to share it requires no caveats, or promises of specific behaviour. Naturalistic explanations remain valid for anyone and everyone despite their personal input to life. A person can accept the facts that the planet is 4.5 billion years old and that the flu doesn’t respond to antibiotics whether they are the world’s most fervent atheist or the world’s most fervent god worshiper. On the other hand, religious or other faith beliefs only reward followers, worst still, those who find they cannot accept such beliefs, even for the best of reasons, are threatened by intimidating sanctions - all without verification that the beliefs are in any way accurate.

Championing a naturalistic approach to belief doesn’t exclude other routes to life’s fulfilment as life has many and varied dimensions - there’s the artistic, the sensual, the literate, the athletic, and these are all well-grounded activities that await being discovered either for pleasure, the advancement of knowledge or both. And any of these routes can provide a valuable adjunct to life’s meaning whether we accept a faith position or not. One of my favourite books, Dickens’ Hard Times, underlines this view. It’s a cautionary tale that describes a Mr Gradgrind who constantly churns out to his children facts, facts, and more facts all the while ignoring their desire to nurture their artistic and emotional selves. The moral to the sad story warns readers not to repeat Mr Gradgrind’s sterile approach so they may avoid his inevitable heartache.

Nevertheless, probably the commonest objection that naturalists hear is that without the supernatural, the universe is devoid of wonder, and can have no meaning, no purpose. Or that by limiting our understanding of life to the naturalistic, we risk losing communion with an immortal god, or a miraculous healing of what ails us. In some ways they are right, nature provides no meaning or purpose, and the disturbing parts of life, especially its end in death, cannot be overcome or avoided so needs to be faced with honesty, understanding and courage, and not wished away while an imagined eternal perfection takes its place. The bald fact is that life is finite and no amount of wishful thinking will change that. On becoming an adult, each person must assess these competing beliefs and make a decision.

To those who say "I’d rather be part of something bigger than myself" I say: It’s true people are just a collection of atoms, but we are atoms that have self-awareness. Our brains are only matter, but it’s matter capable of constructing memory, imagination, language and meaning. And it’s these human attributes that gives each one of us an importance beyond ourselves. In fact, I could say people are the universe personified and looking in the mirror. Who could ask for anything bigger?

For most of my life I have chosen to uphold these naturalistic beliefs, to take whatever actions they prompt and to stand by their consequences. I know that I am firm in them because my resolve has often been tested, but, I have consistently refused to accept opposing beliefs even when enticed by instant rewards or threatened by damnation in eternity. These are my beliefs and I’m a believer.

June Maxwell
Glasgow, March 2013

Blue Jeans and Blue Gowns

Blue Jeans and Blue Gowns

Some years back, I completed a PhD in the subject of semiotics, specifically in multi-modal communication and I’ve always had a fascination with how people communicate and how changes in our lifestyle can prompt changes in the way we interact with the world. In the last few days, the words of another semiotician (Umberto Eco’s Faith in Fakes, 1986), have been playing in a continuous loop at the forefront of my mind.

In that book, Eco descriptively and entertainingly explained in semiotic terms how wearing a pair of jeans had immediately altered his demeanour and how that one, simple outward change of clothes imposed on him a change in his attitudes, thoughts and behaviour. In the last few days, I’ve had a similar experience, one which I’m committing to paper underneath:

A few days ago, I underwent a short spell in hospital. I had what’s known as a TIA (Transient Ischaemic Attack). Although these can be quite serious incidents, they’re temporary and I’ve had two before so I recognised the symptoms straight away. I lost vision in one eye for around 15 minutes or so and after about half an hour the episode passed and I went back to feeling as I usually do, not ill or weak or physically compromised in any way, not even psychologically concerned about a repeat attack, just the usual me. That means, I share with Eco what he was pleased to call ‘the internal life’, an on-going internal dialogue on somewhat lofty and philosophical subject matters, a dialogue brimming with theory comparisons, semiotic analyses, critiques, and so on. And for me this dialogue is my most defining feature, it assures me I’m still me and it determines how I interpret the world - though not how the world interprets me.

But, during my sight loss episode, to be ‘on the safe side’ I called NHS 24 to ask their advice. Before I knew it, an ambulance arrived to transport me to hospital. I sat with the paramedics in the ambulance explaining what happened while they tested me for various health benchmarks like blood pressure, insulin score, etc. At this point I was fully clothed, but I felt cold so they covered me with a blanket. This made a difference because being conscious of an ambulance blanket around me suddenly shifted my perception of me from citizen to ‘patient’.

The move from ambulance to A&E was done by wheelchair (for safety reasons) so my transformation to patient was moved up a gear. I spent quite a few hours in A&E where I saw a succession of nurses, doctors and support staff and I instinctively knew as a patient, my language from here on in would need to be more considered and respectful and my internal dialogue would now be too busy observing these changes to pursue anything more intellectual.

One nurse suggested I change into a hospital gown and get onto the A&E couch. The gown did it. Donning that notoriously absurd apparel completed my transformation. The person I usually think of as me, a fiercely independent woman with a wealth of rich experience and knowledge, someone active in the world, someone with an internal life of incisive, continual semiotic analyses, to the person reflected back to me by the speech and actions of all those around me - a vulnerable, sick, old woman - and it was that pesky blue gown wot done it.

Just as Eco’s jeans had imposed on him an unfamiliar, somewhat artificial and alien demeanour, and exchanged his internal life for a completely external one (albeit a more carefree one), my hospital gown had become the medium that non verbally but loudly and definitively conveyed to me and everyone around me this message: ‘here you are a patient, one of many, to everyone you meet here, everything that identifies you is recorded on that bedside chart, that is who you are now’. The gown also instructed me to remember my place, to be grateful at all times, (even a bit of fawning might not be out of place); ask only relevant questions, and above all, don’t get annoyed when they call you ‘dear, pet, love’ so on, that’s what the gown demands. And I obeyed. I adopted the new persona my begowned self insisted on.

Over 2-3 days, someone interacted with a host of medical and non medical staff, but it wasn’t me, I was back at my flat probably watching Netflix and thinking about my next move into Nurture Community Politics. This was a surrogate me, one whose life and habits now gave way to instructions, rules and money-saving compromises that everything around me confirmed loud and clear: The infamous rubber mattress, the cornflakes breakfast, the torture of being wakened at half-hour intervals the whole night. It was all happening to her, the old dear in the gown that had a TIA. Nurture Politics? No time or cerebral space for such mental meanderings now, the gown (like Eco’s jeans) obliged me to concentrate solely on aspects of my external life, and right now that was to negotiate a trip to the loo while hooked up to a dozen bleeping devices.

As Eco himself commented, semioticians know that clothes are semiotic devices, and they know like language, clothes can provide a syntactic structure that can alter presentations and interpretations of events and indeed of people. We know the medium is the message. We know all this because we have libraries of books and theories that tell us so. But again, like Eco, sometimes its just fun to live through and then document a personal example of these theories that prove just how right they are.

June Maxwell
Glasgow, 2017

I'm Philip, the Runner

I’m Philip, the Runner

I’m Philip, the runner, that’s how I announced myself to the generals in Athens when they summoned me to the assembly some 2,500 years ago. My life as Philip was short, but those brief years were filled with satisfaction, honour and a touch of youthful hubris.

At that time the talk in the city was all about the Persians, everyone knew they were on their way. Darios, their leader, who called himself the king of kings, was determined to trample the Athenians like ants under his Persian feet. We didn’t know much about these people and couldn’t understand their language. To us, every time they spoke it just sounded as if they were saying ‘bar’, ‘bar’ so we called them barbarians.

Our way of life in Athens was unique, it suited us and we were all keen to preserve it. Although we loved beautiful things, we lived simply yet had everything we needed, so for the most part we were content. Some of our wealthier citizens had foreigners to do their manual work for them and those people had much better conditions in Athens than they did elsewhere.

Nobody ruled us, we were responsible for our own laws and because we created them ourselves, we upheld them and protected them. I wasn’t 30 yet so not old enough to go to the assembly where the laws were made but I used to hear my dad say it could be tedious going twice a week to listen to long speeches or some trial or other, but he always went because we believed that any person who couldn’t be bothered to do his civic duty had no business living in our city at all.

Many of the older men liked to spend their time cultivating their minds in philosophic discussions, the younger ones like me preferred to cultivate our physical strength, so every day I would go the gymnasium and practise running and other sports and I became quite well known for my strength and achievements.

A vandal like Darios didn’t understand our democratic routines, his people knew only fear and obedience, and if we let him, he would destroy our way of life and take us all for slaves to live under his tyranny. We were used two war but we weren’t just fighting machines like the Spartans were. We admired moderation in everything, so it seemed to us the Spartans put too much time into military training. I had just finished mine but had never been in a war, so I suppose I was anxious to prove myself and do my bit.

That day we had all heard the rumours. The numbers of Persians advancing on us were supposed to be so many they were uncountable. The ten generals in charge of our defence were at the assembly making plans, but most people were just going about their business. Takis, my best friend and I were training at the stadium when the messenger came and asked me to come to the assembly to talk to the generals; I couldn’t imagine why.

One of them, general Miltos had most to say. I didn’t know him well but to me he looked a bit shifty. General Themis was there too, I’d know him since I was a young boy. He’d often seen me run at the games. I think I was one of his favourite athletes because one day he gave me a present, a small silver bird with long legs, he said it reminded him of me. Since then, I’ve always worn it round my neck and people in the city all know me by it, in fact those who know me well call me ‘bird- legs’.

The generals’ plan was that all Athenian men capable of fighting gather in the small village of Marathon and confront the Persians when they landed in their ships. That way we’d take them by surprise because they’d probably think we’d be cowering behind the city walls, never imagining a small band of Athenians would have the nerve to confront their gigantic army head on.

For its defence Athens could count on every citizen between the ages of 20 and 60 but even so our numbers were small, about 8,000, so we needed help. At first, the generals decided to send a rider to Sparta to ask them to come to our aid. But when they considered the need for psychological stamina and how a horse might get into difficulty in such rough and rocky terrain, they decided to choose an athlete, a runner so, instead they honoured me with the task.

I wasted no time in preparing. I’m not sure what I was feeling, excitement, anticipation or anxiety. I know I was bursting with pride but the gravity of the mission kept my euphoria in check. As I set off, every Athenian asked the gods to give strength to my limbs. And they all came to wish me well as I made my way out the city ‘the gods be with you’ ‘Do it for Athens’ ‘you can do it Philip’. And till I reached my journey’s end, all those encouraging words were my fuel.

I was well used to running long distances and I knew how to pace myself and how important rhythm was, but that road didn’t make it easy to keep a steady pace, there were too many stones, hills, bends, ups and downs and that meant hard concentration. I started to sing, first, a rousing verse from Homer: ‘On the plains of windy Troy’. I was an awful singer but there was no one to hear and the song had a good beat so I thumped it out with my feet. I went along like that for hours, me and the hot August sun and all I wished for was a cool evening breeze to bring relief to my sizzling skin.

In the dark, somewhere around Corinth, I stopped to rest. I remember closing my eyes for a minute and a gentle hand touching my shoulder. I looked round and saw an old woman who looked wise and kind, come to think of it, I never did find out where she came from. She gave me food and drink, that I never tasted before or since for as it went down I felt revived and restored all over. In no time I took to my running again with even greater enthusiasm.

This time I made up songs as I went, a song about the journey, a song about a girl I fancied and one about my beloved Athens.  By morning a leather strap on one of my boots had broken, it had already made me twist my ankle a couple of times and now with every step, small sharp stones found their way into the flesh of my feet. But I couldn’t afford to let my thoughts dwell on pain so I fixed my eyes on the road and only allowed thoughts of duty into my mind.

Day became night and on it went, the pounding, thumping, running. The sun had started to set on the second day when I saw it in the distance - there it was - Sparta. The sight renewed my vigour, I filled my lungs with air and sprinted the last few miles. I wasn’t sure what to expect, I wondered what their city would be like, we’d always heard so many stories about their women athletes and their awful soup.

“I’m Philip, the runner, I’ve come from Athens, we need your help”. Everybody was as curious about me as I was about them. They listened earnestly at what I had to say, they knew if Athens fell, Sparta would be next. They went off to discuss the situation between themselves and left me with a girl to tend to my blistered feet. Pretty soon there was a crowd all around me. “Is it true you Athenians walk to war as if you’re out for a stroll with your friends?”. “Who’s in charge, how do you keep order”. “And how come you have short hair?” I didn’t know who to answer first. I suppose so, I said, we’re all part-time soldiers but we know our duty. Our generals have more experience in warfare so we obey their orders in battle but on the whole we’re all treated pretty much the same really.

I was a stranger, and as tradition demanded, they offered me hospitality. One drop of wine added to a bowl of water to cure my thirst, then there was meat, fruit and rest. I think my feat of endurance impressed them because they treated me with extraordinary respect and friendship. One showed me the tricks of his military prowess and a special manoeuvre to use if I was ever cornered by a Persian.

I think I sensed their leader’s reply before he spoke and I listened to it intently. They would like to help he said and they would, but right now was the celebration of their holiest festival of the year and it would be another six days till the festivities were over. However, he told me they would make an exception and in this case they would compromise, they would try to get to Athens in three days, that was the best they could do.

I hadn’t expected this reply, I imagined going back with the mighty Spartan army alongside me. I mustered my thoughts; my fellow Athenians waited at Marathon and needed every man they could get, my mum and dad as well as my young sister were still in the city, if the barbarians got there..,....

By way of consolation, the Spartans gave me a horse to ride part of the way back and some of them rode with me till I was well on my way. I was glad of their company but they were a serious bunch, not like Takis who always saw the funny side of everything. One by one they fell back till eventually once again, there was only me and the road.

I’d been given fresh boots for the journey and thick socks to cover my well-oiled feet, but still the pounding vibrated inside my ears, in fact my whole body throbbed in tune to the rhythm of the run. Images came to me of the girl who had tended my feet. I hadn’t taken much notice of her at the time, but now I remembered what clear green eyes she had. I remembered the sensation of her hands gently massaging my feet and the relaxing aroma of the herbs and oils she used. Her hairstyle was so different from Athenian girls - and those legs. Reminiscing of those tranquil moments must have sent me into a daydream and before I knew it, I had planned and lived out my entire life with this girl.

The hardest thing was to keep my eyes open - they kept falling shut. It was a struggle I almost lost, and then I saw him. Far off at first, but I could mark him as an Athenian by the style of his helmet as it caught the sun. As I got nearer he was running towards me - it was Takis. He had let the others go ahead and waited for me on the road. His arms were all around me, as we rejoiced in each other.

For a while we just sat silently relieved to be in each other’s company. But Takis was excited: “Are they far behind you, how many are there”? I didn’t know how to tell him. He didn’t say anything at first, then he was cursing the Spartans and their festivals. But suddenly he lowered his voice: “They say the Persians outnumber us ten to one Phil”. “The Platians have come in with us but they’re only about 800 of them”. It was the first time I had heard Takis’ voice so sombre, so I tried to lighten things up bit. “Wait till I tell you about the Spartan women”. He soon rallied and before long we took the road to Marathon together in a relaxed stride. Takis had brought my gear with him, my helmet with its red crest, greaves to protect my legs, my shield and a short sword that my mum had given me.

The atmosphere at Marathon was eerie. The Persian boats were in the bay and we could see the hoards of strange-looking men moving around on the shore. The Athenians had taken up a place behind a hill waiting for reinforcements. Takis and I went to find general Themis. He was disappointed at our news but he said if we hadn’t enough brawn to do the job we would use our brains and fight them with strategy. General Themis’ plan was meticulously detailed and every one of us knew if we were to succeed, we had to carry it out to the letter.

At first light we assembled in our tribes, ten in all, each led by a general. We took up our gear and walked down the hill towards the enemy, this was it, do or die. We waited for general Themis’ signal, then we ran. Everybody was shouting and yelling, our noise filled the whole expanse of land in front of us as we ran forward. They didn’t move, just watched in amazement. They must have thought we were mad, so eager to meet our doom, but they didn’t know what we knew. We ran till we were so close to them that their arrows, their army’s best assets were rendered useless.

We kept the flanks strong which lured all the barbarians into the centre where our defences were weak. From what I observed of these peculiar men, their heart didn’t seem to be in the fight as if they didn’t know what they were fighting for. As soldiers, their skills seemed good enough, but without grievances to quell or families to defend, they fought without the conviction so familiar to Athenians. In contrast, Darios’ men fought from fear of not fighting, they fought a mechanical war, whereas we fought a moral one. I think that’s what made them easy to defeat. One came after me, I didn’t see him at first and he managed to plunge a knife into my leg and almost did for me, but luckily I remembered the manoeuvre the Spartan had taught me and made short work of him. My wound hurt but I got used to it and carried on, it was just one more pain.

I hadn’t seen Takis for a while, but I caught sight of my dad and a former teacher of mine and there was that well-known Athenian who wrote plays - Aschyleus I think they called him, each doing their bit for Athens.

Every time the barbarians in the middle took a step forward, back went our troops, slowly, subtly but surely, back and back taking the Persians with us. When they were trapped like flies in a web, we closed in on the two sides and fought till we finished them off. The most satisfactory sight Athenian eyes beheld that day was the backs of the remaining Persians as they scurried off to their ships.

To make sure we’d seen the last of them, general Miltos took a group of men forward to the next port in case they landed there. Their ships sailed round the coast and slowed to a stop at Sounion, but as they looked up and saw the bronze helmets of the Athenians lining the hilltop, they had second thoughts about landing and headed home.

All this time the women, children and old people in Athens didn’t know what had happened and they still feared a Persian attack. General Themis wanted someone to go on ahead and bring the good news to the city. My first run to Sparta had added conceit to my faults and I thought I was the best man for the job, but I knew if the general saw my wound he would never agree.

I found Takis who couldn’t stop talking about the victory. I managed to silence him for a minute and told him my plans. I persuaded him to get hold of some Persian trousers as a war trophy but they were really to disguise my leg wound. I went to general Themis and requested the further honour of bringing the good news to the city. He wasn’t enthusiastic and wondered if I had enough strength left but because I had already run the 150 miles to Sparta and got back safely then fought with them, he decided it was only fair that if I was willing I should be given the honour of undertaking the last 22 miles to Athens to deliver the good news, so he granted my wish. Takis tried to talk me out of it but there was no chance of that. I left my gear with him and for the third time set off on a long run.

There were no songs this time, all my strength was needed to push my legs, I couldn’t even afford a glance sideways. The pace was slow, but I had never a thought of stopping. The hubris that was my weaknesses now redeemed itself as a virtue in the form of pride and determination that would not allow me to surrender to the road as it came lurching towards me with every step. I was so filled with thoughts of home there was no room for pain.

Do it for Athens, do it for Athens, do it for Athens, like a hypnotic mantra, I was mesmerised by the single continual thought in my mind accompanied by the constant pounding of my feet. Water, I could see it, hear it, taste it, smell it, feel it, but I didn’t have it. The heat made the wet blood from my leg clot and even the occasional sweat bead was soon absorbed by my body, the inferno.

I peered out of the narrow slits I had left for eyes. Was that the hills around Athens? Then I heard children’s voices and could feel people near me. Someone came forward and touched me and I fell. All I could do now was lie there. “Who is this, he must be a Persian, look at those trousers”. I hadn’t realised the dust of the road mixed with the blood of the battle had coloured my blond hair dark. My whole body was swollen, especially my face, my lips were cracked and my eyes so puffed I was unrecognisable.

I felt the process of death begin, like a set of lights going out one by one. I had to deliver my message quickly now. “We did it, we defeated the Persians, Athens is safe”. Then I faintly heard someone ask, “How do we know this is not a Persian trick? I had to convince them, but how? there was no time left. I mustered every remnant of strength left in my being and brought my hand to my neck. I grasped the bird with the long legs and raised it towards the crowd with an outstretched arm. The last sound I heard in that life was a loud, proud voice that declared: “I’m Philip, the runner.”

June Maxwell,
Kufrsum, Jordan, 1997

Thoughts on ending a pregnancy

Thoughts on Ending a Pregnancy

All the arguments made against ending pregnancies usually centre around a few specific issues. Some deal with the status of the foetus while others are concerned with the morality of the termination. I’d like to make a personal response to some of these arguments.

Usually, when a man’s sperm impregnates a woman’s egg the resulting zygote will contain 46 chromosomes, half from each parent donor making a complete DNA set that would enable the zygote to eventually develop into a new and separate person.  Technically, the zygote can be considered ‘alive’ as it metabolises nutrients and oxygen to use as energy in order to further divide as it travels down the fallopian tube. So, in this sense, we could say that a biological life-form does indeed begin at conception.

However, many single-celled organisms (fungi, algae or bacteria) also metabolise nutrients, use energy and multiply, they contain their own DNA and carry out most if not all other life processes in order to survive. But who would dream of fighting for the ‘life’ or the rights of fungi or bacteria in the same way some people want to fight for zygotes, simply because they are biological entities, because they’re ‘alive’. Consequently, the point about the zygote being alive seems irrelevant.

Some terminations are protested on the grounds that the growing embryo is ‘human’. In other words it carries DNA that can be identified as human DNA. That seems a significant point until we consider that there are plenty of other cells in our bodies, including saliva, hair follicles, teeth, etc that also contain human DNA. Would we defend the rights of a single tooth or a hair follicle, because it’s ‘human’. Or would we deny the human element of red blood cells because they don’t have a nucleus and therefore no DNA? Of course not.

So, although the embryonic cells do contain DNA, we can hardly call an embryo a human being merely because of that.  A fully-developed, self-maintaining human is usually a person with experiences, memories, career, friends, debts, children, and so on, someone who was born and who has lived. That person is usually a self-aware, sentient and independent individual who is responsible for their actions.  A young child is not fully developed and therefore to the extent of their development not fully responsible, but they are already on  their way to becoming so and therefore should be free and enabled to realise that outcome. 

A female host and foetus are in a symbiotic relationship. But a foetus cannot survive outside the body of the female, it is completely dependent on her for its survival, for without the life-giving nutrients and oxygen that the woman supplies, a foetus would quickly expire. What the woman does can affect the foetus and when anything goes wrong with the foetus’ development, this can pose an on-going threat to the physical well-being of the woman. That situation pertains till the day a baby is born. Rarely can a foetus of less than 24 weeks survive outside a female womb, even though modern medicine is constantly improving the chances of premature babies surviving, if it is born before 24 weeks survival remains  rare. For that reason in the UK, the time limit for terminations has hovered around that 24 weeks for many years. 

Of course children, the sick and elderly can be dependent as well. But that’s a social dependence (food, clothing, care, etc), not actual physical dependence that can have a detrimental effect on the host.

What a foetus certainly is, is a potential person and in the right circumstances potential is important.  But it’s highly contingent. For instance, a law student is a potential judge; eggs and flour make for a potential cake; every tine we buy a lottery ticket, we become potential millionaires. But we all know that all of these potentialities rely on a host of variables that must all come together at the right time and place for the potential to come to actuality. Day in, day out, we’re accustomed to law students failing their courses; hopefuls not winning the lottery; recipes going wrong, all potentialities unfulfilled.  If just one variable in these potentials is disrupted, the end result may never come into existence. And, if a variable goes wrong in a potential human or becomes risky or dangerous, it could be a mistake to nurture it into an enforced existence. Conversely, the birth of this foetus could bring a lifetime of joy and sense of fulfilment to its parents.  The point is that which of these unknowable outcomes (or a combination of them) will persist. 

A foetus is also a potential son or daughter. And this fact makes terminating the pregnancy a heart-wrenching, emotional decision for any would-be parent to make.  Therefore, regardless of age or personal circumstances, termination can never be an easy choice.  And the only one eligible to make it (in consultation with her partner) is the woman who would carry this foetus to term and be a life-long mother to the child.

It is also sobering to remember that such potential humans are quite naturally terminated in their millions every single day when the uteruses of countless women flush out their nutrient-rich linings (as late onset periods) and co-incidentally remove the minute zygotes from their support systems often even before their presence ever comes to the notice of their hosts. Science has given us the means to effect the same result in situations where the female involved considers it expedient to do so.  The problem is external parties want to interfere in these private choices.  Sometimes for nothing more than their personal religious convictions.  And despite the situation having no detriment whatever on the lives of anyone other than the people involved, these outsiders want to impose their views and their mode of behaviour onto the lives of random women and their medical supervisors. All women should have the freedom to act in ways that constitute their own wellbeing and they should be at liberty to do so without reference to those unconnected to them.  Protesters clearly imagine they are saving lives, even though there is yet no definitive life to save.  Expecting women you have never met and know nothing of their private circumstances to alter their medical, domestic or social choices at your behest, cannot be a reasonable expectation.    

Ten lifetimes would not be enough to grieve for all the millions of zygotes denied a life through the natural processes of uterus flushing, nor all the comfort humans could ever muster compensate those millions of babies brought into the world only to endure a life of endless misery because their parents could not afford or did not otherwise have the wherewithal to provide them with a dignified upbringing.

Terminating a pregnancy can however be justified on the grounds that the mother is already a fully fledged human being, a person with full human rights for her protection.  The physical aparatus that can enable foetal development is hers, and any risks to her future health or welfare that the growing foetus may cause should be hers to accept or deny.  From the second of birth, each human has one body, and each body is allocated its own set of rights. The owner of the body owns the rights and there can be no competing for them.  Given this simple arithmetic, the woman who already has a life and a set of rights must be free to make any decisions regarding the medical integrity of her physical being and any threats to it.  She must decide on any future lifelong obligations that will be entailed on her by facilitating the production and entry to the world of another human being.  These are her choices to make and to live with.  

To terminate a pregnancy is simply to disrupt some potential for a good reason - and the more developed the embryo, the more serious will be the reason. Terminating a pregnancy close to birth, eg 39 weeks would to any thinking and humane person seem like infanticide and therefore only contemplated in the direst of circumstances. Likewise where the choice of termination rests on frivolous idiosyncrasies in favour of one sex or the other should never be encouraged, but politically, socially and morally discouraged. 

But these cases aside, to hurl emotive accusations of murder towards woman who after serious deliberation, make the choice to terminate  is thoughtless and cruel and it's pretentious. Because people murder other animals every day - and eat them. We murder other people in wars or by turning a blind eye to their plight of poverty or famine; we murder prisoners because we judge they have done wrong, even though sometimes we are badly mistaken. We murder living, breathing, viable life-forms in myriad ways wherever and whenever it suits us and when we think we can justify doing so. Evacuating a microscopic zygote or an undeveloped embryo that simply has potential, just doesn’t compare, so outsiders should mind their own business.

June Maxwell

Al Karak,  Jordan 1998