“… to yank a soul out of nonexistence into this thresher.”’
-A description of childbirth by True Detective character Rustin Cohle
“I looked and saw all the oppression that was taking place under the sun: I saw the tears of the oppressed– and they have no comforter; power was on the side of their oppressors– and they have no comforter. And I declared that the dead, who had already died, are happier than the living, who are still alive. But better than both is the one who has never been born, who has not seen the evil that is done under the sun.” – Ecclesiastes
“He weaves, and is clothed with derision;
Sows, and shall not reap;
His life is a watch or a vision
Between a sleep and a sleep.”
-Charles Swinburne: A Chorus from Atalanta in Calydon
The optimist’s impatience with or condemnation of pessimism often has a smug macho tone to it (although males have no monopoly of it). There is a scorn for the perceived weakness of the pessimist who should instead ‘grin and bear it’. This view is defective for the same reason that macho views about other kinds of suffering are defective. It is an indifference to or inappropriate denial of suffering, whether one’s own or that of others. The injunction to ‘look on the bright side’ should be greeted with a large dose of both scepticism and cynicism. To insist that the bright side is always the right side is to put ideology before the evidence. Every cloud, to change metaphors, may have a silver lining, but it may very often be the cloud rather than the lining on which one should focus if one is to avoid being drenched by self-deception. Cheery optimists have a much less realistic view of themselves than do those who are depressed.”
– David Benatar, Better Never to Have Been: The Harm of Coming Into Existence
[Note: I am interested in Benatar’s views on antinatalism and don’t necessarily ascribe to his political, anti- Fallist views]
This post is admittedly a tangle of ideas. And probably pointless: an attempt to unpick an impossible knot. (Meaningless! Meaningless!” says the Teacher. “Utterly meaningless! Everything is meaningless.”). I have also thrown a few different thoughts together – misotheism, dystheism and antinatalism – unsure if they will coalesce – but fairly convinced I will make no friends venturing into such gloomy territory. We’ll see what happens.
Some inchoate thoughts on misotheism, dystheism and antinatalism
“There are millions of wretched lives. Some know that their baby will be among the unfortunate. Nobody knows, however, that their baby will be one of the allegedly lucky few. Great suffering could await any person that is brought into existence. Even the most privileged people could give birth to a child that will suffer unbearably, be raped, assaulted, or be murdered brutally. The optimist surely bears the burden of justifying this procreational Russian roulette. Given that there are no real advantages over never existing for those who are brought into existence, it is hard to see how the significant risk of serious harm could be justified. If we count not only the unusually severe harms that anybody could endure, but also the quite routine ones of ordinary human life, then we find that matters are still worse for cheery procreators. It shows that they play Russian roulette with a fully loaded gun—aimed, of course, not at their own heads, but at those of their future offspring.” – David Benatar, Better Never to Have Been: The Harm of Coming Into Existence
There’s a useful introduction to misotheism at Patheos¹:
“misotheists represent a far darker, tormented, and deeply subversive strain of God-thinking. And it is a tradition of religious non-conformism that has remained largely in the shadows—until, that is, I decided to shine the spotlight on it in Bernard Schweizer’s “Hating God: The Untold Story of Misotheism.”
The writer looks at different types of misotheists: the agonistic and absolute misotheists. Absolute misotheists are typically ‘the enemies of God’ who “seek to “kill” God, if only through the power of human imagination and with the weapon of the pen.
“Then there is the agonistic misotheist who, “… like a jilted lover… is gravely disappointed by the object of his worship but still hopes that the fault might be on his side and that the relationship could be set on a new footing. The agonistic misotheist is, figuratively speaking, “agonizing” over his hatred of God, trying to invent excuses for God’s bad behavior yet circling back again and again to the frustrating understanding that God just is not what he is cracked up to be. Some great literature has come out of this struggle with the hatred of God: Zora Neale Hurston’s Their Eyes Were Watching God, Elie Wiesel’s The Trial of God, or Rebecca West’s The Return of the Soldier are overshadowed by this dark, tormenting struggle with the realization that God is (probably) evil.”
(I would add to this list the fictional character Ivan in the Brothers Karamazov.)
But this post is not really about misotheism per se, nor is it particularly about my reflections on antinatalism – although for me both misotheism and antinatalism are related issues, and both have suffering at their centre. This post is more about the intersect and overlap between the two. I will leave more thorough analysis to the experts.
I need to say right up front that for most misotheists and antinatalists, it is not primarily their own suffering which leads to what many consider their extremely dark meditations. rather it is their anger at the suffering of the world and – in the case of the agonistic misotheist – their anger at a god who created such a world which preoccupies their thoughts.
I am just a man, observing the turning blades of the thresher.
Wondering about the indiscriminate destruction.
Like all creatures, I too am at the mercy of it’s blades. All creatures suffer and die: self-evident in the observation, existentially inconscionable.
From what I have read I conclude that the antinatalist isn’t particularly concerned about the existence or role of God in all this – his position is ethical rather than theological. As one antinatalist at Reddit put it,
“The observations that lead to an antinatalist perspective – namely that the world is full of pointless suffering – are the same ones which demonstrate the impossibility of a benevolent, omnipotent, intercessionary deity. I think antinatalism could be compatible with deism and Buddhism (contraceptive use in Thailand was promoted on Buddhist grounds of reducing suffering), but I suspect most of us are atheists.”
If you think these views obscure or aberrant, you might be surprised to find that this strand of thought can be found in literature, philosophy and religious thinking throughout the millennia and in many different cultures – but usually as a kind of shadowy undercurrent.
It is important to stress too that while most people consider misotheism and antinatalism pessimistic, they are both, in their way, deeply compassionate world views. You could argue that they have an excess of empathy as they wrestle with the theme of suffering. The antinatalist values life so deeply he cannot accept the suffering which living creatures must endure. He does not seek to end existent life (although euthanasia, suicide and assisted suicide in situations of extreme suffering would undoubtedly be condoned as acts of mercy) – only to avoid the evil infinity of procreation and birth which perpetuate suffering. (A psychologist on the radio the other day made the point that having children reflects our desire for immortality: we perish, but our genetic material continues into an indefinite future. There may be something of us hundreds of thousands of years from now – if we do not destroy all life on our planet before hand).
The misotheist is outraged by the state of affairs, so much so that he will not settle for a smug, self-contented atheism but rather wrestle with a God he judges to be at very least incompetent, and probably unfathomably cruel.
The 4th chapter of the Book of Ecclesiastes
“So I congratulated the dead who are already dead
more than the living who are still living.
But better off than both of them is the one who has never existed,
who has never seen the evil activity that is done under the sun.
I have seen that every labor and every skill
which is done is the result of rivalry between a man and his neighbor.
This too is vanity and striving after wind.…
“… better off than both of them is the one who has never existed, who has never seen the evil activity that is done under the sun.” is pretty much the position that the antinatalist uses as a point of departure, and it is on this point – “the evil … that is done under the sun” – where the agonistic misotheist contends with God. Wikipedia puts it thus:
“Not to exist”, Mὴ φῦναι, is the best that can meet a man. This conviction was given expression by Sophocles in his great lamentation about life, in the… chorus of Oedipus at Colonus: “Not to be born, O man, is the highest, the greatest word. But if you have seen the light of day, then consider it best to depart as quickly as possible to whence you came. It was not Sophocles, however, who invented the idea, “not to exist”, and he was not the only one to voice it; the elegiac poets—such as Theognis—expatiated on it no less than the tragedians. Tradition placed the thought already in the mouth of Homer; in response to the question, What is best for man?, he is reputed to have said: “It is best not to be born or, failing that, it is best to pass as soon as possible through the gates of Hades.”
A sick dog
As I write, I have a sick wirehair fox-terrier beside me. Inevitably I think about suffering: why he is suffering, his experience of this moment of pain. And it’s a quick leap from this meditation to contemplating broader issues of suffering in the world.
A melodramatic leap perhaps.
Another thought on cruelty: Nietzsche and the horse
“But then on January 3, 1889, everything unraveled. While in an open air market in Turin, Nietzsche witnessed a merchant flogging a horse. He ran to the animal and yelled for the beating to stop. He threw himself between beast and whip, and hugged the equine’s thick neck. This frail and sickly philosopher who gave us the Übermensch and slave morality, then collapsed, weeping.
I understand why Nietzsche hugged the horse’s head. Life is hard. It is not fair. It is filled with rapturous beautiful moments and it all ends much, much too quickly. When we look around and see so many people who are unnecessarily cruel, or mindless, or oblivious to inequities; when see our brothers and neighbors exhaling their numbered breaths in ways that add to the pain or take from the sympathy, we see a world that is, in fact, more absurd and nihilistic than anything the philosopher wrote or said or thought. To see these mindless cruelties playout before him was simply too much for the philosopher to bear; especially when the remedy, the antidote – even our purpose for being here – is so very clear.–“Hugging the Horse’s Head: the persistence of kindness” by John Sean Doyle.| https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/luminous-things/201506/hugging-the-horses-head
Better never to have been
The little bird thrown from it’s nest in a storm.
Or one of those strangely cold statistics one stumbles upon in cyberspace:
“Within the first two to four months of the bombings, the acute effects of the atomic bombings killed 90,000–146,000 people in Hiroshima and 39,000–80,000 in Nagasaki; roughly half of the deaths in each city occurred on the first day.”
A cold fact written in the absence of God, about souls thrown into the blades of the thresher.
Victims of poverty, war and disease, of cruelty.
I remember as a boy watching schoolmates roasting live earthworms above a fire just to delight in the creatures’ agony on hot spades. And other boys cutting termites in two to see how long they took to die, laughing at this exquisite little torture session.
Early on, I came to a certain wariness of people, though wished them no harm.
The distress of a cow witnessing her calf slaughtered for some indifferent human’s evening meal.
Animals moaning as their fellow creatures are bludgeoned to death beside them in a makeshift slaughterhouse south of the city.
Seals clubbed to death in their thousands, simply because they represent a certain inconvenience.
As a teenager growing up in Apartheid South Africa, even in my sheltered suburban world, witnessing petty cruelties towards black people. The enthusiasm of white people for hurting black people in word, deed, thought.
Words, of course, were particularly useful in this regard.
Later I came to understand the depth of the cruelty of Apartheid, and wonder how my people could be comfortably, indifferently complicit in such evil. How my silence was complicity: my liberal opinions remained just that, an expression of anger at wrong, with little to show for it. An occasional, ineffectual, blundering ‘good samaritan’, of an interloper race.
Post ’94 South Africa, as the pigs metamorphise into farmers so to speak, the cycle of evil repeats itself. George Orwell understood the human condition rather well.
I wonder how the world over, for this cause or that reason, how people can be complicit in evil; and then again, it appears almost inevitable: how easily victims become perpetrators.
“I have suffered; now it is your turn.”
The hidden horror of factory farms and animal experimentation “labs”.
“My pain counts, and yours doesn’t. I will disavow yours. Disavow you.”
The untold number of torture centres around the world, throughout history.
The demonization of people for this or that reason (and there’s always a reason).
The sound of a tree felled in a forest.
An old man struggling up a hill with a heavy load, and no-one helps.
A child who lives on a rubbish dump pulls a broken toy from the refuse.
The calf of a rhino watches it’s parents butchered by poachers.
A butterfly crushed under foot.
Small acts of cruelty, and acts as big as the horrors of war.
This is the world we are thrown into.
This is the world God allowed to happen, the world God foresaw.
The soul is yanked out of non-existence into the thresher.
In Buddhism, Samsara is at the centre of the Buddha’s teaching. In Christianity – no matter what the dominionist, heretical health and wealth Faith teachers will have us believe – one of the defining motifs of Christianity is the Cross (the other of course is the empty tomb) – the first a device of excruciating torture. The Faith teachers with their tawdry eisogesis will strain scripture to (mis)inform you that Christ’s propitionary sacrifice means he suffered so we can live as “Kings kids”- in effect to live as the most self-serving and narcissistic capitalists in the midst of a suffering world. Not quite what Jesus had in mind for his church methinks.
Suffering is central to the world’s religions and certainly to any philosophy which claims to be more than superficial motivational claptrap.
The dog is clearly in pain: he trembles in my arms.
In my mind are endless connections to stories of pain, images – of vivisection, of Pinochet’s torture chambers, the concentration camps and Nazi medical experiments. The devastation of war and disaster. Images – and endless statistics of suffering amongst men and beasts.
To live is to suffer.
M dog beside me: on the radio reports of a chemical attack on civilians in Syria which killed scores of women and children. A report of a pregnant woman gang-raped somewhere near Johannesburg. Pregnant 11 and twelve year olds.
Susan Sontag in Regarding the pain of others (which should be read in full) writes,
“Being a spectator of calamities taking place in an–L/ other country is a quintessential modern experience, the cumulative offering by more than a century and a half’s worth of those professional, specialized tourists known as journalists. Wars are now also living room sights and sounds. Information about what is happening elsewhere, called “news,” features conflict and violence— “If it bleeds, it leads” runs the venerable guideline of tabloids and twentyfour-hour headline news shows—to which the response is compassion, or indignation, or titil-lation, or approval, as each misery heaves into view. How to respond to the steadily increasing flow of information about the agonies of war was already an issue in the late nineteenth century.”
“PARKED IN FRONT of the little screens—television, computer, palmtop—we can surf to images and brief reports of disasters throughout the world. It seems as if there is a greater quantity of such news than before. This is probably an illusion. It’s just that the spread of news is “everywhere.” And some people’s sufferings have a lot more intrinsic interest to an audience (given that suffering must be acknowledged as having an audience) than the sufferings of others. That news about war is now disseminated worldwide does not mean mat the capacity to mink about the suffering of people far away is significantly larger. In a modern life – a life in which there is superfluity of things to which we are invited to pay attention—it seems normal to turn away from images that simply make us feel bad.”
To shudder at Goltzius’s rendering, in his etching The Dragon Devouring the Companions of Cadmus (1588), of a man’s face being chewed off his head is very different from shuddering at a photograph of a First World War veteran whose face has been shot away. One horror has its place in a complex subject—figures in a landscape – that displays the artist’s skill of eye and hand. The other is a camera’s record, from very near, of a real person’s unspeakably awful mutilation; that and nothing else. An invented horror can be quite overwhelming. (I, for one, find it difficult to look at Titian’s great painting of the flaying of Marsyas, or indeed at any picture of this subject.) But there is shame as well as shock in looking at the close-up of a real horror. Perhaps the only people with the right to look at images of suffering of this extreme order are those who could do something to alleviate it—say, the surgeons at the military hospital where the photograph was taken—or those who could learn from it. The rest of us are voyeurs, whether or not we mean to be. In each instance, the gruesome invites us to be either spectators or cowards, unable to look. Those with the stomach to look are playing a role authorized by many glorious depictions of suffering.”
For the Jews, procreation was a Divine command to be obeyed.
Saint Paul – the heretical Jew – taught that celibacy was a better way.
C.S. Lewis in ‘Surprised by Joy’ (or was it ‘A Grief Observed?’) said of his love for his wife, Joy, that in spite of the painful cancer from which she died, it was worth it to have shared their love: a contradiction of antinatalism?
The antinatalist goes where most fear to tread with his awkward and difficult questions.
The misotheist bangs at God’s door long after believers have turned in for the night and long after God had thought man would give up demanding answers.
This is the reality the misotheist insists upon.
Misotheism is exhausting. I confess that I am tired of questions. Tired of badgering God about suffering in the world, tired of Christianity’s inadequate answers. Tired of asking why He permits it.
Theologians assure us it’s all about freedom. But what freedom was there for the children of the chemical attack?
An old conundrum
“The existence of evil and suffering in our world seems to pose a serious challenge to belief in the existence of a perfect God. If God were all-knowing, it seems that God would know about all of the horrible things that happen in our world. If God were all-powerful, God would be able to do something about all of the evil and suffering. Furthermore, if God were morally perfect, then surely God would want to do something about it. And yet we find that our world is filled with countless instances of evil and suffering. These facts about evil and suffering seem to conflict with the orthodox theist claim that there exists a perfectly good God. The challenged posed by this apparent conflict has come to be known as the problem of evil.”²
There are no answers to be found beyond the facile defenses believers make for their God’s ineffable silence. I am tired of well-rehearsed and bankrupt theodicies.
In light of the big issues of the world and world history – the genocides, pogroms, famines, plagues, floods, tsunamis, wars and natural disasters, is it ridiculous to be concerned about my dog’s illness?
Nikolai Berdyaev, described the cry of his dying cat as somehow containing the pain of the whole world. An existential intuition.
(A vivisectionist would no doubt disagree with the Russian philosopher’s empathy – until he himself was exposed to the same torture as his animal victim.
Tolstoy observed that the russian peasants, familiar with hardship, were more resilient, loved life more than he who, a wealthy aristocrat, was melacholy and angst-ridden. Of course this may be seen in terms of a fin de siècle, Rousseauesque romanticization of the peasant, a sort of ‘rural naturalism’. (Indeed Tolstoy was influenced by Rousseau).
A related concept to misotheism is
dystheism (from the Ancient Greek: δύσ θεος “bad god”), the belief that a god is not wholly good, and is possibly evil.³
Our plumber recently returned from Mozambique. Planting maize he was bitten on the hand by a puff adder. His hand shows extensive ulceration from the snake venom.
Why did God create a world with poisonous snakes and spiders? Tsunamis and volcanoes? Deadly jellyfish? Plague and disease? Deformities of the kind that afflicted The Elephant Man? A world in which rape and child abuse are ubiquitous? In which death is the one certainty for all living creatures? God in his omniscience foresaw all this? And in his omnipotence allows it to continue unabated through the millennia?
Are we back to God working in mysterious ways?
References and notes
This view of God is also one in which we can experience the divine directly as the center of our very selves. We can take comfort in that when we do suffer, God is present with us.
Our plumber is from Mozambique. In his recent trip home he was bitten by a puff adder, his hand shows extensive damage from the snake bite.
And its really of little value to dwell too long on the abject, like those photojournalists who have covered genocides and famines Nd wars and Tsunamis.
But frankly, theodocies collapse about me like so many futile smokescreen s to defend the indefensible.
After years of going to God, to be met only with the same closed door, theodicy becomes something on the other side of disillusionment. What lies in the barren landscape beyond? Misotheism itself is an expression of pathological existential collapse.
Richard Lowell Rubenstein’s After Auschwitz takes this subject far beyond the platitudes sloshed about in Christian circles. Pushing through the sterile quagmire of conventional religious thought to “radical theological frontiers in Jewish thought:
Briefly, Wikipedia explains that, “In After Auschwitz, Rubenstein argued that the covenant had died. He did not mean he was now an atheist, nor that religion had to be discarded as irrelevant. However, he believed not in a transcendent God, but in God as the ground of being:
Terms like “ground” and “source” stand in contrast to the terms used for the transcendent biblical God of history who is known as a supreme king, a father, a creator, a judge, a maker. When he creates the world, he does so as do males, producing something external to himself. He remains essentially outside of and judges the creative processes he has initiated. As ground and source, God creates as does a mother, in and through her own very substance. As ground of being, God participates in all the joys and sorrows of the drama of creation which is, at the same time, the deepest expression of the divine life. God’s unchanging unitary life and that of the cosmos’ ever-changing, dynamic multiplicity ultimately reflect a single unitary reality.
But what does this even mean?
Rubenstein’s Death of God had profound implications for Christianity.
My post theology nach Auschwitz looks at some of the issue jewish thinkers grapple with, but in truth they are issues for us all.
Im not convinced that being alive is a better option than not being alive, but as the master of nihilism Cioran says suicide always comes too late.and anyway, he lived to a ripe old age, every year passed a millstone to his lack of conviction, a failure of will. Those who truly see the futility of it all don’t mess about pontificating and theorizing about death. They simply make their exit. They are the brave, called cowards by the rest of us who haven’t an ounce of their courage in facing the abyss. We choose rather our futility, our maya, sham, pretence and escapism, vacuous talk. Materialistic ambitions, vanity of vanities.
A rejection of antinatalism
“Note: If you flatly reject the concept of hypothetical consent, you have to condemn Good Samaritans for saving the lives of unconscious strangers.
I expect that anti-natalists will feel unfairly dismissed by my not-so-subtle arguments. But I insist that my arguments are more than satisfactory. Anti-natalism is so absurd that any valid argument in its favor is merely an indictment of one or more of its premises.
Fyodor Dostoyevsky’s character, Ivan Karamazov, was of the belief that if no God exists, all is permitted. Dostoyevsky, in my opinion, believed this as well. I kind of believe it too—when I think really hard about it; it can bring fear. Although that is not my main point here.
Benatar is a Dostoyevskian style comedic clown. FD loved to create parodic characters who would spout the latest jargon but who were mere fools or poseurs. But even he did not have the imagination to create such a fool as Benatar (who would have provided great comic relief in “The Possessed”, for example).
It is also amusing that his field has a name, “Natalism”. Guys like Benatar are “anti-geniuses”—always breaking new ground.
At least Pol Pot had a cut off at age of 30.
Caplan starts from a fundamental misunderstanding of what antinatalism stands for. It is NOT about ending PRESENTLY EXISTING life, it’s about PREVENTING new life from being brought forth . Also, he vastly overstates how easy it is to commit suicide. In 2001, there were 400,000 emergency room visits for self-inflicted injury in the US. That same year, there were only 30,622 suicides (1 of 77 of all deaths). (Source: http://www.suicide.org/suicide-statistics.html). That should tell you how difficult it is to properly execute a suicide to its full intended extent, even if we go by the other stat that says there were 6 attempts for ever one success. Also, 1 in 77 deaths may make suicide uncommon, but hardly “incredibly rare”.
Also, suggestions of suicide contradict the commonly held assumption that suicide is selfish. I agree it is, given the anguish and resentment it causes family and friends; lasting for years if not the rest of their lives. If suffering prevention is the reason for antinatalism, then this is asking the antinatalist to be a hypocrite. It also suggests people should not give a damn about how their own desires affect others – especially the said family and friends. I doubt many of us in real life would try to stop an antinatalist from committing suicide, so I think this pseudo-advice is more sour grapes and petty personal distaste than anything else.
3) No, because that’s gambling with the well-being of other people (1 in 77 chance of hating life – the MINIMUM figure, of course the stats show I could give MUCH higher odds of such). We don’t accept a 1 in 77 chance of a common OTC drug causing adverse side effects. Ditto for those odds concerning a tire blowout on a vehicle. Yeah, it’s a small risk they’ll either have a bad life or otherwise profoundly disagree with either “the rules of the ‘game of life’” or human nature itself to the point they wish they were never born, but the 1 in 77 IS a significant one, given the gravity of the situation.\Regarding the last sentence I wrote above, that’s also akin having someone sign under duress a business contract (i.e. “to live”) whose terms (the rules of the game of life, if nothing else) they profoundly disagree with. The only way to get out of this contract early is through suicide, with all the difficulties mentioned above.
Re: Good Samaritans and unconscious strangers.
Irrelevant parallel. Unconscious strangers already exist. Therefore, they’ll experience further without aid. In fact, they want their suffering to stop. Also others (their fam. & friends) will suffer too. The potential existent cannot suffer if we don’t conceive them. Again, antinatalism is not about actively snuffing out presently existing life, it’s about preventing new life. Failure to grasp this is a failure to understand the basic of the antinatalist argument.
Antinatalism is not a matter of economics, it’s about ethics – totally independent of what benefit we ourselves get from having children.
People in favor of antinatalism are usually in some way disappointed with life, especially their own life; for example, they had high ideals and find them to be incompatible with reality. Their own life experience therefore provides them with the prototype example of something they would never want to happen to someone else.
Conversely, we can say that the people who enjoy life, and look at antinatalism with incomprehension, evidently aren’t suffering severely, or else they would have more sympathy for it. They can claim to be a majority, and so therefore argue with the antinatalist that the risks involved in creating a life can’t be that bad, because most people put up with the results.
Here, the antinatalist may respond by drawing upon the absolute worst that existence has to offer a conscious being. Think of all the most horrible events that you personally know to have actually happened. In every case, if it really was real, there was a thinking feeling brain on the receiving end of that fiery inferno, or endless torture session, or whatever your examples of “the worst” encompass.
The antinatalist says: To justify life, to say that life is good, is to affirm these events. If you don’t create life, they can’t happen – at least, they can’t happen to new people, people that don’t already exist. If you allow the creation of life, then you are “part of the problem”, part of the reason why the worst that can happen, sometimes does happen.
Schopenhauer had a rebuttal ready, for people who think that pleasure and pain balance out. Consider, he said, the situation of two animals, one of which is eating the other. Does the satisfaction of the eater balance out the agony of the one being eaten?
I’ve read a clutch of thinkers in this vain: Schopenhauer, Cioran,
“Some anti-natalist positions are founded on either a dislike of children or on the interests of adults who have greater freedom and resources if they do not have and rear children. My anti-natalist view is different. It arises, not from a dislike of children, but instead from a concern to avoid the suffering of potential children and the adults they would become, even if not having those children runs counter to the interests of those who would have them.”