I am pro-life. Those three words create a chasm between myself and many of my colleagues, especially those liberals and progressives with whom I otherwise have much in common. The purpose of this essay is to consider, through a series of vignettes, what it means to be pro-life in an environment which is reflexively pro-choice. I hope to highlight what Washington Post columnist Mark Shields (who is himself pro-life) has called "the loneliness of the pro-life liberal."

But first a definition: what do I mean when I say that I am pro-life? I believe that human life has an intrinsic dignity and worth which must be upheld, and this dignity is continually threatened by a world which seems to have embraced a "culture of death," in the words of John Paul II. I believe that society has a positive obligation to protect and uphold this dignity, especially for the poor, the marginalized and the voiceless. So in defense of human life I oppose (among other things) militarism, the death penalty, punitive welfare policies, euthanasia and abortion.

Were my concerns restricted to the first three items on the list, I would find myself in the mainstream of academia. But because I have followed my beliefs to (what I see as) their logical conclusion, I part company. More than that, I find myself holding views which are regularly ignored, vilified or caricatured. Understand, I am not claiming to be oppressed or persecuted; but my isolation, now mostly self-imposed, is still uncomfortable. Let me highlight this with the following episodes:

* I regularly receive solicitations to join the ACLU, solicitations to which I do not respond, though I am often supportive of their work. Unfortunately, these solicitations regularly paint me (at least generically) as an "anti-choice fanatic" who is not only opposed to legalized abortion but a threat to every kind of constitutional liberty. I realize that the rhetoric of the abortion wars has often been intemperate, and fund-raising literature is particularly prone to this vice. Nevertheless, I am forced to conclude that to right-thinking civil libertarians, my views are beyond the pale. (The experiences of Village Voice columnist Nat Hentoff, who describes himself as "a Jewish, atheist, civil libertarian pro-lifer", only serve to reinforce my own experience.)

* Like many college professors, I cover my office door with news-clippings, cartoons and fliers in support of various causes. Here at Trinity and at other institutions I have seen a smattering of pro-choice cartoons, cartoons which over-simplify and distort many of the issues involved. As a postdoc at Purdue, I once put up a bumper sticker stating my opposition to abortion (as well as to war and the death penalty). The sticker was first vandalized and later destroyed. When I mentioned the incident to a colleague, I was excoriated for creating "an environment hostile to female students." (In fairness, I must add that as a graduate student at Berkeley, my office door was vandalized for my pro-life views, but that time it was an anti-death penalty poster which was stolen.)

* When Serrin Foster of Feminists for Life came to campus to speak (a talk which I regrettably had to miss) I ran into a demonstration against her in Mather Hall. From the demeanor of the students and the contents of their posters and fliers, I realized again that not only did they oppose her views (and mine---I have been a member of FFL for years) but they regarded them as indefensible. This is not unique to Trinity: during a visit to Vassar, someone left an anonymous note on my windshield, thanking me for my FFL bumper sticker and for having the courage to express views (s)he was afraid to voice.

* During his first term, President Clinton appointed Joycelyn Elders as Surgeon General. Her appointment was controversial and she was eventually forced to resign. In academic circles she was generally perceived as being on the side of angels, not least for her outspoken defense of abortion rights. As part of that defense she lauded the eugenic aspects of abortion, since it prevented the birth of genetically undesirable children, such as those with Down Syndrome. Children like my son. (Parenthetically, I would add that my pro-life views long predated his birth. He merely caused the political to become the personal.) Once, I tried to raise this point in opposition to her. I was met with an embarrassed silence, the sort of silence which greets the revelation that a respected member of a gentleman's club had committed a social faux pas. The topic was quickly changed, and my point, I suspect, as quickly dismissed.

Since this last episode occurred, I have mostly been silent on abortion and other pro-life issues in academic circles. Perhaps if I had the courage of my convictions I would, as St. Paul put it, "proclaim the message and, welcome or unwelcome, insist on it." It might be better to bring the fight into the open, but I am not, by nature, a confrontational person. I only chose to write about it today because (to the great credit of the editors) this column has become a remarkable vehicle for open debate, and so it seemed the best vehicle to question the pro-choice orthodoxy which dismisses me when I say: I am pro-life.