The Pope and the Defense of Life

Pope Leo XIV’s visit to Spain has left indelible memories. For Catholics like myself, the Vigil in Lima Square in Madrid will always hold a special place in our memories. To witness half a million joyful young people in Madrid’s huge Paseo de la Castellana avenue go from chanting “Viva!” and singing to falling silent as they adored the Blessed Sacrament on their knees in an awe-inspiring silence—broken only by the evening songs of birds bidding farewell to the day—was unforgettable. If the Pope’s youth is the youth of Spain, there is hope indeed.

The image of the countless crowd of the faithful who gathered for the beautiful Corpus Christi Mass in Plaza de Cibeles also made an impact on half the world: more than a million Catholics, rising in the middle of the night and braving Madrid’s summer heat, bearing witness to their faith, and a 70-year-old Pope processing through the streets of Madrid, carrying the Blessed Sacrament himself.

Another unforgettable memory was the Mass at the spectacular Sagrada Familia Basilica in Barcelona, staged with extraordinary beauty and elegance. The sacred music, featuring an orchestra and organ—the musical instrument par excellence in the liturgy— contributed to the prayerful character of the ceremony, which was secured in extremis by the preventive action of the police (who prevented its political exploitation by the usual Catalan separatist troublemakers). Finally, the in crescendo of light and music, which evoked the liturgy of the Easter Vigil, highlighted the relationship between truth, good and beauty.

In short, Pope Leo XIV’s visit has been an unexpected catalyst. For Catholics, it has been like “dew pouring on our dryness”, a flame of hope through which the Pope has emphasized the centrality of the Eucharist in the face of the fleeting ideological fads that have recently tainted the Church itself.

But beyond the Catholic perspective—which may seem unremarkable or incomprehensible to non-Catholics—I believe this has been a journey that has left its mark on many who either do not believe or have distanced themselves from the Church.

This receptiveness reflects a society’s thirst for truth, a society tired of being fed a flood of lies; a society deprived of enduring and transcendent reference points that nevertheless continues to seek the ultimate meaning of life; a society that, in short, longs for God.

Therefore, the success of Pope Leo XIV’s trip has been complete, as has been the response of the Christian faithful in Spain—perhaps the visit’s most prominent protagonist—which has left a deep impression on the Pope.

Anecdotes from the Visit

That said, the papal visit has also served to highlight certain realities of our country, albeit in an anecdotal way. For example, the irreligiousness of our political class has become evident; it in no way represents the 17% of the adult population who identify as practicing Catholics—that is, 7 million “orphaned” voters[1]. 

Likewise, the papal visit has raised doubts about the existence of a certain disconnect between a few pastoral approaches on the agenda of some bishops and the true spiritual concerns of the faithful—or of the Pope himself, who on some occasions preferred to sidestep the questions posed to him. Indeed, the choice of certain testimonies that are—due to their extreme nature—very unrepresentative of the normal circumstances of the Christian people, the bias in certain approaches, and the selection of some performances of highly questionable taste have been surprising, although in no case have they managed to tarnish the visit.

Likewise, a contrast was evident between the experience of the Roman Pontiff in Madrid and what he lived in Barcelona. Madrid showcased the faith of the Christian people with impressive crowds that were conspicuously absent in a secularized Catalonia that has become almost a mission land; no wonder the thorns of nationalism and ideologies choke the faith.

Madrid also showed its hospitable and unconditional welcoming spirit. This warm welcome was also present in the relatively less numerous faithful Catalans who came to see the Pope, but unfortunately not in the local authorities, who subjected the Pope to rude pressure to use, extensively and disproportionately, a language he does not know, the Catalan. Thus, it was ridiculous that the Pope could not speak the language common to both him and his audience forcing him to endure visibly uncomfortable moments. Once again, the obsolete linguistic victimhood of Catalan nationalism—also evident at Montserrat Monastery— characteristic of its narrow-minded narcissism, has prioritized the golden calf of nationalism over the most basic norms of courtesy. I suppose that a Pope whose motto alludes to unity and who uses the image of the Tower of Babel to teach us what we must flee from would not have failed to notice the use of language to divide.

Finally, the elegance and grace of certain events—filled with contemplation and centered on spirituality, especially the Masses in Plaza de Cibeles and at the Sagrada Familia—stood in stark contrast to the profane and banal nature of some performances—particularly in Madrid—much to the chagrin of the faithful in attendance. Likewise, the low-key presence of the Cardinal Archbishop of Barcelona stood in contrast to the strange prominence of the Cardinal Archbishop of Madrid, which at times made it seem as though it was not the cardinal accompanying the Pope, but rather the Pope accompanying the cardinal.

The Pope’s address to Congress

However, in such a highly politicized society, it has been impossible to prevent the speech the Pontiff delivered in Congress to become the most talked-about address —a speech that was nonetheless criticized by some journalists who exemplify the plagues ravaging the profession (with a few, rare exceptions): arrogance, ignorance, and “that frivolity that is like a dried-up gourd with seeds dancing inside”[2]. 

In this regard, the depth of some of the Pope’s messages deserves closer consideration. First, his “serene and firm” words have reminded us of something many forget: that a democracy not subject to higher, immutable norms can lead to tyranny. Undoubtedly, the idolatry of democracy has led to confusion about its true nature: democracy is not synonymous with freedom (nor with goodness, nor with justice), and it can become its antonym.

Indeed, Vox populi, vox Dei is a truly dangerous motto. Indeed, the “general will”—that construct invented by Rousseau—transforms the people into a new god, but not a good and just God; rather, a potential tyrant whose whims lead to acclaim someone amid cheers one day (for example, on a Sunday) only to crucify him a few days later (for example, on a Friday). On the other hand, man transformed into God—and who, therefore, decides at will what is right and what is wrong—tends, by his fallen nature, to abuse power to dominate others. Furthermore, the tyranny of the majority has a component that makes it potentially even more dangerous than the tyranny of the individual: its appearance of legitimacy.

If the majority has no limits, the minority is doomed, for the majority will soon be able to decree all manner of abuses against it: it may rob the minority, demanding that it pay exorbitant taxes or expropriating its property; or it may humiliate and discriminate against it, figuratively forcing it to wear a yellow star (or a cross) on its lapel; or it may even decide to take away its freedom and even its life, since a deified majority has so decided. That is why it is no surprise that some of the Founding Fathers of the United States defined democracy as “two wolves and a sheep voting on what we’re having for dinner tonight.” Perhaps that is why the Pope insisted that “what is legal must respect that which no majority can legitimately violate.” In a democracy, this distinction between what is legal—that which is approved by men, some of whom wicked—and what is legitimate—that which is morally just—is crucial. Thus, Leo XIV emphasized that “the law must serve the good, and justice must set limits on force” (particularly the State’s force over the individual, I might add).

It is not new for a Pope to speak along these lines. When St. John Paul II visited the European Parliament in 1988, he argued that social consensus—or, more frequently, the imposition by force of the majority’s will (since consensus is, after all, nothing more than a utopia)—“cannot contradict the norms of the natural moral order”[3]. In this way, he highlighted the two opposing visions that clash in Europe. On the one hand, there is the view that recognizes the existence of norms that “man, individually or collectively, cannot dispose of as he pleases, at the whim of fashions or changing interests,” and a freedom “that cannot be arbitrary and boundless, but must be directed toward truth and the good”[4].

On the other hand, there is another view which, by not considering man a creature of God but rather equivalent to God, “abolishes all subordination (…) to a transcendent order of truth and goodness, regarding man in himself as the beginning and end of all things, and society, with its laws, as his absolutely sovereign creation. Ethics, then, has no other foundation than social consensus”[5]. 

A democracy that is not subject to limits and is alien to natural law will, sooner or later, lead to injustice and tyranny, and the more power the State wields—as is the case in today’s Welfare States, with their clear totalitarian tendencies—the more pressing this danger becomes.

The issue of abortion

A clear example of how a majority can contradict the norms of the moral and natural order is the attack on the dignity of human life perpetrated by the laws on abortion and euthanasia, particularly in Spain. Indeed, it has not escaped anyone’s notice that the Pope has defended life before a Congress that, over the past 20 years—under two governments whose ideologies differ only in name—has passed increasingly aggressive abortion and euthanasia laws that have gone far beyond the legislation of most countries in the world.

In this regard, the Pope argued—as was to be expected—that life “must be recognized and protected from conception until its natural end.” This reference touches on the most significant moral issue of our time, one that confuses progress with barbarism: abortion, a subject of a debate dominated by very aggressive propaganda. For this reason, it is important to first clarify a few facts.

The first is that legal abortion is a relatively recent development, with the exception of the communist bloc: the U.S. legalized it in 1973, and many European countries did so between 1975 and 1990, although Portugal did not legalize it until 2007 and Ireland not until 2018. Since then, and despite pressure from propaganda, global public opinion remains divided on this issue. In Africa, Brazil, and Muslim countries, opposition to abortion is fierce: between 70% and 90% of the population believes it should be illegal in all cases or in the majority of cases. At the opposite extreme is Europe, the region of the world most favorable to abortion, which, in my opinion, is yet another sign of its sad civilizational decline. Thus, in Protestant countries such as Sweden, or aggressively secular ones such as France, opposition to legal abortion stands at only 4% and 11%, respectively, while in countries with a Catholic tradition, the percentage of opposition—though still a minority—is higher (ranging from 20% in Italy to nearly 40% in Poland)[6]. Latin America occupies an intermediate position, with opposition to abortion nearing 50%, and a similar situation exists in the U.S., where the demographic weight of evangelical Christians—and, to a much lesser extent, Catholics—means that nearly 40% of the population is opposed to abortion[7].

The profile of women who choose to have an abortion is also very different from the one portrayed by propaganda. In Spain, 90% are over 20 years old, and nearly half (45%), over 30, with “the most common socioeconomic profile being that of a single woman who is employed and in a relationship with a partner who is also employed; thus, the woman who has an abortion typically bears no resemblance to the stereotype of the frightened teenager or the woman who has been raped”[8]. In fact, 95% of abortions are performed at the mother’s request, 5% are due to a risk to the pregnant woman’s life or health or a serious fetal anomaly[9], and only 0.02% are the result of rape, according to the latest tabulated data[10].

Some analyses logically draw from these metrics the conclusion that the primary reason for abortion is “financial cost, inconvenience at work, loss of freedom, and increased personal obligations”[11]. In other words, abortion would have little to do with women’s rights or “reproductive health,” but rather with the signs of the times, such as the hedonism and materialism of Western societies, their childish concept of freedom without responsibility, and the deification of the individual’s sovereign will—unsubject to any higher moral limit, but, curiously enough, obedient like sheep to the myriad capricious and increasingly tyrannical rules emanating from the will of other men gathered in Parliament (or in the European Commission). 

Unanswered questions

The abortion debate has also been tainted by deceit and secrecy, for in a West dominated by aesthetics, its horrific reality would win few supporters. One might wonder why, in an age of ubiquitous images, videos of an abortion are never shown[12], or why, in a society that prides itself on being so open, this subject is literally taboo—to the extent that in Spain mothers are prevented from viewing an ultrasound of their child before making the decision to have an abortion. For this reason, in most cases, abortion is not a free choice, since the decision has been taken out of imposed ignorance—without offering the pregnant woman any real alternatives— and under pressure from those around her or her own circumstances. 

Given a mother’s powerful natural love for her child and the tendency of every civilized society to protect its most defenseless members, pro-abortion propaganda has focused on depersonalizing the unborn child. However, the abortion debate should be limited to a single question: Is the unborn child a human life with a right to life, or is it not? Given the enormous gravity of what is at stake, the burden of proof should fall on those who support abortion. Therefore, I prefer to approach the issue in a Socratic manner.

First, if a wanted pregnancy is a source of joy because “I am expecting a child,” can the mother’s mere arbitrary will—thumbs up, thumbs down—change the nature of the living being beating in her womb? Because it is unwanted, does the “child”—whose loss midway through pregnancy, had it been desired, would traumatize the mother—metamorphose into a cluster of cells or an indeterminate form of life that can be violently terminated?

Second, if a newborn is a human life with rights, was it one day before birth? And two months earlier, as is the case with seven-month-old fetuses? Exactly what scientific or biological fact indicates that turning point which changes the very essence of that living being once it is conceived? Since gestation is a continuous process, shouldn’t reasonable doubt lead us, on such a sensitive issue, to exercise the utmost caution before ending the life of a heart that has been beating since the fifth week of pregnancy?

Third: if babies and young children, and many sick and elderly people, depend on others for their survival without their right to life being diminished as a result (a slogan like “we care for them, we decide on them” would be unacceptable), how can we accept the argument that, because the unborn child depends on the mother, she can decide to deny it the right to live that was not denied to her?

I believe that abortion will one day be viewed as characteristic of a morally decadent society. In the meantime, while Catholics and many non-Catholics continue to fight for life “from conception to its natural end,” as the Pope said, may this article serve as a tribute to those brave women who, against all odds and despite their fears and the pressure from those around them, decided to carry their pregnancies to term—sometimes alone—and defend the lives of their children: you are, literally, my heroines.