30,879,230 people have died this year as I’m writing this. They say antinatalism is a memento mori, but death is literally all around us. Culture, media, academia, war, government and our personal lives are arguably saturated with it. But as Peter Zappffe argues, most of us anchor and distract ourselves away from the reality. Family being one major anchor (and distraction). Maybe it’s why antinatalism holds a special status as a memento mori in our minds; it “takes away” our final refuge from death; we “live on” through our children.
Before going further, it’s important to note that with or without antinatalism, people die. If you’re an antinatalist you don’t die any sooner or later than anyone else. If you’re not an antinatalist, your children will die too and so too their children. What’s clear is that you personally don’t live on. Everything that makes you “I,” in a relevant sense, is lost not only in the death of the flesh, but through a limited temporal reach. Can you say your great grandfather occupies your waking thoughts or even your dreams?
What antinatalism places in your mind is how fragile and ephemeral your existence is (the human predicament). You can, notwithstanding difficult circumstances, attempt to live life as fully and enjoyably as possible. There is no rescue coming for us after death; we can’t cheat the death gene. All you have is this one life albeit not consented to. Antinatalism also reminds you quite explicitly (and some might say annoyingly) that people suffer – even the best of lives contain much suffering. You should be compassionate and empathetic. But antinatalism also has a misanthropic note to play. You hurt people via the intrinsic properties of life. You compete for resources and wealth and social standing and that involves losers.
Let’s return to children. If you must have children, it is better to adopt. You would be passing on exactly the same thing you would pass on through biological children, and you would be supporting children that are already in existence. The only difference is your genetic material is inside the biological child’s body and it’s debateable whether this makes any tangible difference in parenting. Children waiting for adoption are also already in dire circumstances and could use a place to be.
Again, bringing someone new into existence without their consent violates bodily autonomy the instant that person begins to exist. There is simply no way to obtain consent from a non-existent person. It sounds complex, but the math is elegant: by not creating life, all potential harm is avoided, and no one exists to mourn the lack of pleasure.
Zapffe’s isolation probably characterizes your views on antinatalism. The philosophy is uncomfortable to deal with, so it’s dismissed or at least ignored. If you already have children, it becomes more difficult to entertain the thought. You definitely don’t think of your children as “mistakes” and it would be wrong to instill that message in them. But having a talk about antinatalism with them is the conscientious thing to do. Remember, the philosophy is a moral framework, not a legal one. You are absolutely legally allowed to have children, and it should remain that way.
Sublimation, Zapffe thought, was the rarest and most elegant of the four defense mechanisms you use to protect yourself from your own consciousness. It involves using art, culture, music, writing, etc. to deal with existential pain. You can achieve “immortality” through your creative output.
Otherwise, many young people in the maternal ambivalence movement are opting for living carefree lives. Going on expensive vacations and buying nice things. The point is that there are alternatives to bringing children into existence.
On a final note, you may be asking, “who are you to say these things?” I’m an antinatalist and I advocate for nonexistence. It’s like being a Liberal, Conservative or an antizionist. You advocate for those views, and no one asks “why?” but they affect the lives of other people.
