The Cost of Abstraction: Why "Not Voting" Is Still a Choice
This morning, I found myself in a conversation that has been replaying in my mind all day. A woman told me she didn't vote, so she couldn't possibly have helped elect Donald Trump. I gently pointed out that by not voting, she did exactly that—she helped elect him through her inaction. She then said she couldn't vote Democrat because it was against her religion. I stopped talking at that point, because I knew where the conversation was heading: abortion.
It's a painful pattern I've seen too many times. People who are deeply concerned about unborn children, yet seem utterly indifferent to the suffering of born people. People who believe they are protecting life, while turning a blind eye to children being separated from families, to families being detained in concentration camps, to the systematic cruelty inflicted on the living.
As I reflected on this exchange, I couldn't stop thinking about the words of Alice Miller, the brilliant psychologist who understood the devastating connection between unwanted children and the violence that plagues our world. In her essay "Protecting Life After Birth," she writes:
"In disbelief, one asks oneself: Is it possible that the people behind such actions really are so clueless? Do they not know that no less than one hundred percent of all seriously abused children are unwanted? Do they not know what that can lead to? Do they not know that mistreatment is a parent's way of taking revenge on the children they never wanted? Shouldn't the authorities do everything in their power, in the light of this information, to see to it that the only children who are born are wanted, planned for, and loved?"
Miller's words cut through the fog of abstraction. She forces us to confront a truth that is uncomfortable but undeniable: forcing a woman to carry an unwanted pregnancy to term is an offense not just against her, but against the whole human community. Because the child she brings into the world, born to a mother who could not or would not love them, is at far greater risk of becoming a source of harm to themselves and others.
"To force the role of a mother on a woman who does not wish to be a mother is an offense not just against her, but against the whole human community, because the child she brings into the world is likely to take criminal revenge for its birth, as do the many (mis)leaders threatening our lives. All wars we ever had were the deeds of once unwanted, heinously mistreated children."
Dissociation and "Abstract Life"
Alice Miller, who spent her life examining how societal dogmas and unresolved traumas perpetuate human suffering. Miller exposed the dangerous hypocrisy of prioritizing an abstract concept of life over the concrete reality of lived experiences.
There is a painful dissociation at play. It is the dissociation that allows someone to proclaim their love for the unborn while supporting policies that put born children in cages. It allows someone to call themselves "pro-life" while being indifferent to the lives that are here, suffering, starving, and being bombed. It allows someone to claim moral clarity while aligning with political figures and movements that demonstrate a profound disregard for human dignity.
And this brings me to the video that sparked this reflection—a short clip of Isaac Asimov speaking to Bill Moyers in 1988. Asimov, the brilliant science fiction writer, was known for his clear-eyed rationality. And in that brief exchange, he reminds us of something vital: only science punishes its liars. Only science forces us to confront the truth of our errors. The rest of the world—politics, religion, ideology—often rewards its liars. It rewards those who tell us what we want to hear, who offer us comforting fictions.
But we cannot afford to be comforted by fictions right now. We cannot afford to be led by those who would have us believe that the most important thing is to ensure every pregnancy comes to term, while ignoring the conditions into which those children will be born. We cannot afford to be governed by abstract ideas of "life" that have no regard for lived life.
Miller asks a searing question about the Catholic priests who so passionately fight against abortion—men who have, by choice, no children of their own. She wonders:
"Is it a desire to prove that unlived life, as perhaps their own destinies suggest, is more important and more valuable than lived life? ... Or is it a case of seeing to it that others share the same fate as oneself? Both are possible. Both are dangerous when people are driven to blind and destructive actions by the dead hand of their own repression."
It is a question that haunts me. How much of our moral fervor, on all sides of the political spectrum, is driven not by genuine love for the other, but by our own unresolved pain, our own unexamined histories, our own desire to control others in the ways we were controlled?
The woman I spoke with this morning was not evil. She was, I believe, a genuinely good person trying to navigate a complicated world. But she is profoundly misguided. She had been taught that her religious duty required her to oppose abortion above all else. And in doing so, she had been rendered unable to see the larger picture—the ways in which the political forces she was supporting (or at least not opposing) were causing enormous harm to born, breathing, feeling human beings.
I told her we have a duty to vote against the true evil. The Democrats are not perfect. They are not flawless. But they are the lesser evil. They cause less harm. And in a world where one side is actively and openly inflicting unspeakable cruelty on children, families, and marginalized communities, choosing the lesser evil is not a compromise of one's principles. It is the exercise of them.
Miller writes that not everyone is capable of thinking in real, concrete terms. "Many seek refuge in religious beliefs. In their weakness, they place their trust in 'relics,' awaiting salvation at the hands of one stronger than themselves." This is not a condemnation of faith. It is a plea for responsibility. Anyone who claims to be an authority—political, religious, or otherwise—has a duty to be conscious of the facts.
"If they aren't, if they ignore or neglect that duty, claiming instead that their palpable lack of information and their abstract conceptions of 'life' are sanctioned by God and practiced in the name of humanity, they are acting against life by misusing the weakness and trust of the faithful and dangerously confusing them."
This is what is happening. Religious and political leaders are using the abstract concept of "life" to manipulate millions of people into voting against their own interests and against the interests of the most vulnerable among us. They are confusing the faithful. They are acting against life by ignoring the lived reality of born children, born adults, born families who are suffering right now.
The injunction against abortion goes even further:
"Consciously or unconsciously, it represents support for cruelty against children and active complicity in the creation of unwanted existences. These existences can easily become a liability for the community at large."
This is the hard truth. By opposing abortion, by forcing women to give birth against their will, we are not protecting life. We are helping create unwanted existences—existences that are more likely to be abused, more likely to grow up in poverty and neglect, more likely to become sources of violence and harm. We are, in Miller's words, contributing to the destruction of humanity, not its salvation.
We need to protect life after birth. We need to care about the children who are already here—the ones being separated from their parents, the ones being bombed, the ones living in poverty, the ones being denied healthcare and education. We need to care about the adults who were once those children, who are now suffering under oppressive regimes and hateful policies. We need to care about the families who are being torn apart.
And we need to vote.
Not voting is a vote for the evil that is happening right now. It is a vote for the cruelty. It is a vote for the concentration camps. It is a vote for the war. It is a vote for the destruction of everything we claim to hold sacred.
Our religion, our faith, our beliefs—none of these can absolve us from the moral duty to protect the living. None of them can justify turning a blind eye to the suffering of born people because we are too focused on the unborn.
As Miller beautifully puts it, "It is the right to lived life that we must protect wherever and whenever it is threatened. And it should never be sacrificed to an abstract idea."
Let us not sacrifice the living to abstraction. Let us not be complicit in cruelty by our silence or our inaction. Let us tell the truth, no matter what.
Because the truth, as Asimov reminds us, is the only thing that will ultimately set us free.
The Right to Lived Life
True harm reduction requires us to face reality as it is, not as we wish it to be in an idealized realm. Political options are rarely flawless, but when one path openly embraces systemic cruelty and the other works to mitigate it, choosing non-participation isn't moral purity—it is active neutrality in the face of harm.
As Alice Miller powerfully concluded:
"It is above all the children already born that have a right to life—a right to coexistence with adults in a world in which, with or without the help of the church, violence against children has been unequivocally outlawed. Until such legislation exists, t
alk of 'the right to life' remains not only a mockery of humanity but a contribution to its destructio n."
We cannot afford to retreat into abstract moral sanctuaries while concrete harm unfolds around us. Report the truth, face reality in clear terms, and remember that when human life and dignity are on the line, doing nothing is never an option.
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