Rant For Today: Breeding Ethics

A non-developmental series of models made for medical science. Click for more info and the credit and all that.

Now here is a sensible blog post about breeding by Duchess.

It actually has citations from proper articles. It even the mentions a girl doing a PhD on the subject of the ethics of breeding. Unlike me, who can never be bothered to track down research and cite shit. I am too lazy to do any more than have an incoherent rant. This entire blog is one huge, incoherent rant.

I must confess I particularly enjoyed the timid disclaimer at the bottom about how the PhD girl who is writing about breeding morality loves children and isn’t having a go at any breeders. That made me snicker a little, the idea that there was a need for that disclaimer.

The article linked within the post from the New Yorker was also a very interesting read.

The size of your family helps determine how the world of the future will look. (Credit the New Yorker)

‘The case against kids: Is procreation immoral?’ Elizabeth Kolbert, 2012. in The New Yorker.

“In “Why Have Children?: The Ethical Debate” (M.I.T. Press), Christine Overall tries to subject that decision to morally rigorous analysis. Overall, who teaches philosophy at Queen’s University, in Ontario, dismisses the notion that childbearing is “natural” and therefore needs no justification.

“There are many urges apparently arising from our biological nature that we nonetheless should choose not to act upon,” she observes. If we’re going to keep having kids, we ought to be able to come up with a reason.”

I had a huge argument with a friend of the ex’s back in Bombay last December. We met him and his now fiancée at this hotel near the airport for dinner (Don’t know why we chose a place near the airport. The airport is in the middle of nowhere, the food was so-so and was massively over priced). We got into a heated debate over our Paan Pasand flavoured Shesha, or perhaps even a sequence of debates.

The first one was about breeding dogs to develop or enhance certain genetic traits. (I’m totally against this. It seems cruel and unnecessary to actively cultivate a squashed pug nose if that nose results in limited or poor ability to breathe.)

Or those genetically bred cows that have so much muscle (It’s for people who want really lean, low-fat meat) that they can’t even have sex without a human manually having to inserting the bull’s penis. Here I’ve even attached an article. See? I’m being so good and almost semi-researched. Maybe I should do a PhD.

This argument then morphed into:

“If you know you and your partner both have a high chance of passing on a debilitating genetic condition to any offspring would you still have a baby?”

I’d like to say that I presented a good defence of the ‘No’ stance, but some of his arguments (especially no.4 below) were so maddening that after a point I just got enraged and incoherent. Also the ex was on my left, acting like an atrocious little troll, constantly interrupting rudely in trying to change the subject and derail the debate. The ex doesn’t enjoy debates.

So this guy’s response to the question above was “Yes” and these were the core reasons listed below (My arguments underneath)

Venus in Flames. Click for info about this Votive drawing on the Wellcome collection. (and the artist credits and stuff)

1.

“All procreation carries some risk.”

Of course it does. What a redundant point. Everything we ever do carries risk. Walking across a street carries risk. But most people also have the capacity to assess the risk and make an informed decision based on that assessment.

If there is a high risk when running across a train track when the signal is red that you will get hit, then most people would avoid running across a train track. I don’t see why this wouldn’t apply to breeding. In fact I should think this should especially apply to breeding in the circumstances mentioned above.

“Dark-skinned” pregnant doll - Edo-Tokyo Museum. Click through for more info from the blog I nicked it from.

2.

“Doctors don’t know everything and can’t predict the outcome accurately. Even if they tell you the chances of this kid having a horrific incurable condition is high, like a 50/50 chance. Even if its 80%. Even if its 99.9%. They can’t know everything. So I’d have this kid anyway and take that 0.01% chance.”

What an idiot.

Again, sure part of the statement is true to a degree. (Doctors don’t know everything.) However it is also insane.

Firstly doctors don’t claim to know everything. They are presenting you with the chances of a certain outcome that you are free to then take or leave. However their inaccuracy will be a good deal less inaccurate than yours.

Secondly if using the logic above, you refuse to listen to a professional who may have spent a several years studying to give you solutions, why bother going to see a doctor at all? Just visit a Homeopath. Or a yogi. Just as good. In fact better – You’ll won’t have to think about the risks at all – They’ll tell you to pray harder, swallow a special herbal remedy when the Moon is in Vishnu and everything will be just dandy.

But reading between the lines here’s what I think this guy was actually saying,

“I’m willing to take the risk, even if it’s very high because the person who would suffer the most is this child but that’s ok because what I want is a baby and getting what I want is more important to me and besides I can easily rationalise it.”

In fact if he just said that I’d be fine with the whole thing. I’d still think he was a selfish, amoral, butthead but at least he’d be an honest one. This whole ‘I’m bringing a child into the world for its benefit and the benefit of the world’ is such a crock of shit. I want to vomit every time some deluded breeder or to-be breeder says it. (Unlike the Duchess I have no disclaimer)

Wood carved fetus model set (circa 1877) - Toyota Collection. Click through for more info from the blog I nicked it from.

3.

“Existing but being in incredible pain is better than not existing at all.”

I couldn’t even be bothered to argue this at dinner. It’s too … exhausting. Non existing creatures won’t care that they don’t exist. Plus creating something when you know it will suffer (and not in the existential angsty sort of way, while listening to a Morrissey album, but really suffer.) seems like nothing short of torture to me.

I think this guy had religious leanings. People with religious leanings never seem to mind creating things that will suffer. They have a million ways of justifying it. So that’s always a dead-end. I stopped bothering with it a while ago. Religion I mean. If I’m going to argue about fiction I’d rather it was a debate about The Hobbit and whether Gandalf was a bit gay. (I think he might have been)

Image from the Wellcome collection "Draw your own votive". Click through for the story behind it on the Wellcome collection. (and the artist credits and stuff)

4.

“I’d love this child. My love would be better than it having good health.”

Actual statement. I’m not even paraphrasing.

Oh yes yes of course, your love would compensate for all this baby suffers even though you chose to procreate in the face of medical advice, even though you could have adopted. What a saint.

He then presented us with 2 theoretical situations:

One a baby is born to a large but poor family. They neglect the child and probably they won’t be able to give him/her any of the good things in life but this kid would be totally healthy.

Or two, a baby is born to this genetically dodge couple, he has a terrible incurable chronic illness and disability but his parents would really, really love it and give it whatever it wanted.

If you had the power to decide into which family this baby would be born which would you choose?

Even the ex who normally NEVER agrees with me picked the first option. Who the fuck wouldn’t?? I’d imagine that most parents just want their kids to be born healthy.

This particular argument really blew my mind. The sheer deluded arrogance of it. The amazing selfishness. My love will conquer all. Even genetic illness. Even suffering. I mean seriously. Who does this guy think he is? Mother Teresa?

Even now, months after this dinner my mind reels.

Drawings of pregnancy to guide clinical examination. Click for more info & credits. The grossly distended tummy over the vagina in last image makes me feel a bit queasy.

“Benatar’s case rests on a critical but, in his view, unappreciated asymmetry. Consider two couples, the A’s and the B’s. The A’s are young, healthy, and rich. If they had children, they could give them the best of everything—schools, clothes, electronic gaming devices. Even so, we would not say that the A’s have a moral obligation to reproduce.

The B’s are just as young and rich. But both have a genetic disease, and, were they to have a child together, that child would suffer terribly. We would say, using Benatar’s logic, that the B’s have an ethical obligation not to procreate.

The case of the A’s and the B’s shows that we regard pleasure and pain differently. Pleasure missed out on by the nonexistent doesn’t count as a harm. Yet suffering avoided counts as a good, even when the recipient is a nonexistent one.”

I’m totally on board with this Bentar guy. In fact I wish he was with me at this dinner. Just him, his huge thesis (not a euphemism) and his beautiful logic.

The ex was very annoyed about this entire debate and refused to take part, except by trying to stop it by occasionally yelling at me. (Being the incredibly rude person the ex is).

For once though I was perfectly happy to comply and wrap the thing up. (It wasn’t going anywhere this debate, although I did get quite annoyed when the ex was being particularly trollish. We were both sitting there hissing at each other now and then.) but the ex’s friend really wanted to carry on. He just wouldn’t drop it. The ex lectured me all the way home. I didn’t pay any attention.

In other news, I just got back from holiday in the Caribbean. I feel terribly smug.

I’m brown as a nut and looking more like an Indian than I’ve looked in ages.

So I’m asking Punjab to send over a crate of Fair & Lovely. It seems to be all the rage these days. 

Tragedy Porn Rant

Tragedy Porn Shelf 1: Notice pictures of unhappy/crying children. Come now, buy the books.

Tragedy Porn Shelf 2: The ongoing trend in child abuse lit.

I saw these in a corner shop in the Hastings train station. They were all pretty much on one shelf.

Sure it looks like the tragic but inspirational story of child abuse survivors but that’s just the veneer masking what is essentially victim porn.

“He touched her.. where?”

“He put her in a cellar??”

“OMG It was a priest??!”

“Captive for how long?”

“6 years? 15 years? 25 years?”

“Wow.”

I’m not trying to be insensitive (I mean, I’m naturally insensitive in general. It’s a regrettable character flaw), and I’m sure that the author probably really believes that maybe this book will inspire or help someone and I’m sure it does for some people.

I think my inner objection comes from how these books now occupying their very own genre not the mention the odious blurbs and captions designed to capture the attention of some fickle passer-by.

Picture 1, Book 1: Belonging by Sameem Ali. Picture of sad Asian child. “I was abused and forced to marry, I was pregnant at 13, When I escaped my brother tried to kidnap me….”

All the hot button topics being pushed here in this cover and blurb. Insular muslims + arranged/forced marriage + child abuse + child pregnancy. Oof. I should have bought the book. But I’m waiting for the movie.

Picture 1, Book 2: The End of my world by Emma Jackson. Picture of crying white child with hands over face, in case ethnic abused children are of no interest to you. “The shocking true story of a young girl forced to become a sex slave.”

Yeesh. I really dislike the term ‘Sex slave’. It’s supposed to mean something horrific but it has a ring of S&M seediness and vaguely implies masturbation fantasies.

Picture 2, Book 1: Bad things in the night by Beth Elles “Betrayed as a child by her Jehovah’s Witness stepfather. Now silenced by the law?”.

Ah the religious element coupled with injustice, always a draw.

Picture 2, Book 2: Trust No one by Teresa Cooper. “One girls harrowing and disturbing tale of the abuse she suffered in care”.

The harrowingness of the tale is vouched for by the Sun newspaper no less.

It’s not just a tragic biography. It’s a whole shelf of specific tragedy.

You in the mood for some wife-beating? Here are a variety of books you can choose from.

Hmm maybe some child abuse? Amazing range right on this shelf here.

People selling their daughters into prostitution? Just on that shelf there.

Oh wait, you prefer prostitute triumph? High class escorts reveling in it? – Oh well, that’s so last year. They’re round the back of that shelf over there if you really want them.

I’m not immune to this either (which is why it gets under my skin a little). How can you be immune? It’s the basest of human nature. It’s ultimate horror. It’s a car crash on the side of the road. It’s

“OMG that’s SO horrible!….. Show me more!”

The volume of books published on the same subject just seem to enable this need. This desire to vicariously live through someone else tragedy, briefly and superficially. Feeding off it, temporarily assimilating it as their own, then as the book ends there’s a huge a rewarding wave of relief – I read this book, it was sad, I’ve contributed in some vague way, but thank goodness this didn’t happen to me. Perhaps the book ends with a redemption. It has to. I’m sure the publisher would insist.

Yet knowing all this I still fall for it, I can’t help it. I want to look, I want to open those books. I’m fascinated by the cellar victims;  the Natascha Kampusch case, the Fritzl case, Dugard girl. I can’t seem to stop myself looking for more and more detail in the news articles. What did the cellar look like? Where did they sleep? How did they start having sex?  What else happened? How did she give birth? Did no one help her? Why didn’t she run? Why didn’t she stab him or hit him on the head with a log of wood?

Man.

Seriously though.

Why didnt the Dugard girl hit the guy over the head with a log of wood? Like when he was bending over or something.

Why am I so insensitive??

Middle Class Festival

Nice song by Adam Buxton, I like to hum it. Also now the name ‘Jemima’ makes me giggle. On the inside though. You can’t just go about laughing at words like ‘Jemima’. People might think I need medication.

So it’s the middle of a harsh winter, and although that’s deadly depressing the one silver lining is at least now I won’t have to listen to people talking about their bastard-over-priced-B.S.-mudfest-music-festivals. (Bah humbug)

This guy, one of the ex’s friends (a ‘surfer’ *snort*, like, whatevas) once asked me,

“You don’t like festivals?!?”

In the same tone as though I had just mentioned that I quite enjoyed battering kittens. It offended his surfer sensibilities. Like, dude man, how can anyone not like festivals?? Like, what was wrong with me? Dude. Man. Dude. Oh look a wave! Boogie board!

This annoyed me. I felt this sense of peer pressure to ‘like’ festivals, (in exactly the same way there is this sense of peer pressure that I must, deep down ‘want’ to breed) This annoyed me even more. I felt guilty for feeling guilty about not wanting to spend my time-off cold and wet with a pack of drunk people listening to house music.

I mean, maybe there really is something wrong with me (sure, there is, and plenty) but not about festivals. This first-world enthusiasm of living like some refugee for a couple of days just doesn’t appeal on any level to me.

Look, what if I just want to read a book and do a crossword? I’m a chiller, not a raver, so screw all you hippie-dippy-festival-types.

Leo and I did just that at the Notting Hill Carnival a few years ago – we sat down on a quiet corner and did a crossword, much to the disgust of one of the ex’s friends (different friend from surfer. This one plays African drums. I’d snort again but I can’t be bothered.)

He couldn’t believe we (Leo & I) didn’t want to walk around and around and around with him like ducklings behind some ginormous duck. He is 6.4ft, and his head was nicely in the clouds both metaphorically and literally, while us hobbits were down on the ground amongst all the plebs and garbage and shit, piss and condoms.

I started was taking photos of these piles of rubbish with used condoms occasionally scattered about like Christmas baubles. On a side note, who are these people having sex and tossing condoms on the street at the carnival? Where is the place to have sex? It’s very packed on every street. I don’t understand. Anyway…

He asked me why I was doing that, and I said I wanted to document the spirit of the Carnival.

“That’s not the spirit of the Carnival!”

he said, outraged.

How dare I come to the carnival and take pictures of condoms. Don’t I know it’s about blah blah blah bloo blah puppies and kittens?

He probably said something about love and peace and good times and shit but he is so frickkin tall I stopped listening. The sound travels too slowly from up there anyway.

He wasn’t at all impressed with my Carnival spirit. I should ignore all that and just focus on the people instead…..

This video eventually got its own facebook page called “Mary Moham what were you thinking?” I love the internet.

The ex has been to one festival so far, loved it and now imagines all sorts of festivalling possibilities. I’m really glad the ex doesn’t insist I tag along because pissing in a plastic cup in a field that will soon look like refugee camp is just not my idea of a good time.

No I just can’t. I can’t do it.

We’d probably quarrel like crazy anyway.

I’ve taken the second class from Churchgate to Parla local at rush hour and it seems like it would feel exactly the same, and it only costs Rs.10. (I’m such an Indian. Always looking for a bargain.)

Firangs go to Dharavi and come back shocked: The Horror! The Humanity!

I look at Glastonbury (any festival really) and I feel the same way. And Glastonbury is optional.

I don’t know. Maybe one day I’ll festival it up. It seems unlikely at the moment.

Spot the Difference Slide Show. Bah humbug!

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Rant Rant Rant Rant

This app is killing me.

I also keep getting pinged to do other projects that all have to be done now! and it keeps setting me back 1 hour at a time for the app. That’s really what’s killing me, the interruptions.

Damn app and those fucking TFL chuts are going on strike tomorrow.

I hope all 650 get goddamn fired.

I hope they get fired and never get jobs again.

Lazy bastards.

Sick of it.

(My sympathy for strikers ran out ages ago)

I have to get up early thanks to the bunghole strikers be in at 9.

Angsty Whining

The judicial system (UK) is so fucking useless

They plan to reduce the jail sentences for rapists on the basis that “prison is tough”

Rapists might as well get a small smack on the bum and be told “naughty naughty”

While at the same time, the glorious legislators are banning cigarettes in pubs all over the country (not the mention raising the prices of fags and cribbing about smokers health non fucking stop)

So what’s the lesson here?

You can enjoy a good rape if your a lad (or mini-cab driver) in Britain, but just don’t have a fag after.

Free Smoke

Single panel

More Ranting

Leo and I were watching About a Boy on ITV1.

Halfway through the movie there was a half an hour break for the news.

On the news, there was a bit how ITV1 was losing viewers to digital TV channels.

Well, what do you fucking expect?? Half way through a movie I have to sit though, not 5 mins, not 10 mins, but fucking half and hour of news plus ads when all I want is to watch the bloody movie.
fuck ITV to hell.

I hope they go bust.

Weather Girl : Part 2

I realize now, looking back at my previous outburst, that I might possibly come across as a psychopath.

This is far from the truth.

Let me paint you a picture.

I take the bus to Camberwell, a little shit-hole of a place where my ex-college is.

But that’s not the point.

It’s fucking raining, I’m fucking cold. Walking around, bus stop to bus stop, desperately trying not to get my iPod wet as I change songs. My jeans are wet to the knees and I’m freezing.

On the way back home on the bus, I look out the window and don’t recognize the landscape. I’ve completely missed my stop, I panic and get off.

As I step off the bus, but just a nanosecond too late to get back on again, it dawns on me that I haven’t missed anything, I’m in the middle of nowhere and we’re not even close to my stop.

I ask someone for directions and my heart sinks as she tells me its a long, long walk, still raining, in the cold. I didn’t trust her. So I follow the bus down the road and pray another comes along soon.

I’m glad to say this story ends well. I get that bus and make it home.

x The end x

Colaba Bus Stop, developed in Camberwell. Yellowed, not sure why.

 

Anyway the point being after all that shit pissing cold and London British nonsense this blond smiley bitch comes along on TV only to say that kind of weather will continue all week .

It’s quite upsetting.

Weather Girl

The blonde weather bitch on Channel Five is a fucking WHORE!! DIE DIE BITCH YOU FUCKING SLUT!!

She’s always pretending to laugh when she comes on and keeps smiling all through the weather reading of blizzards and miserable weather.

“Not looking too promising”

she understates and

“Tomorrow is going to be even worse”

she titters and smiles broadly.

FUCKING WHORE SIGN THE FUCK OFF AND JUMP OUT A WINDOW YOU CUNT!!BITCH SLUT BUMSUCKER SMILING ROTTEN ARSE!! BLONDE BIMBO!!!! ARGGGGGgggg!!!