In 1984, New York governor Mario Cuomo delivered a widely discussed address at the University of Notre Dame titled “Religious Belief and Public Morality: A Catholic Governor’s Perspective.” In it, Cuomo attempted to explain how a Catholic politician could personally accept his church’s teaching on abortion while declining to translate that conviction fully into civil law.
Cuomo stated:

As Catholics, my wife and I were enjoined never to use abortion to destroy the life we created, and we never have…. But not everyone in our society agrees with me and Matilda…. Certainly, we should not be forced to mold Catholic morality to conform to disagreement by non-Catholics however sincere or severe their disagreement. Our bishops should be teachers not pollsters…. But if the breadth, intensity and sincerity of opposition to church teaching shouldn’t be allowed to shape our Catholic morality, it can’t help but determine our ability—our realistic, political ability—to translate our Catholic morality into civil law, a law not for the believers who don’t need it but for the disbelievers who reject it.”¹

Cuomo’s argument helped give intellectual respectability to a position that would become familiar in American politics: I am personally opposed to abortion, but I do not believe I should impose my religious beliefs on others.

At first glance, that sounds like a reasonable attempt to navigate a pluralistic society. We do not want government enforcing every theological conviction held by every religious group. There are many things Christians regard as sinful that no serious person proposes making illegal.

But abortion presents a fundamentally different question.

Is Abortion Merely a Religious Issue?

The abortion debate has unfortunately been diminished by the claim that opposition to abortion is exclusively—or even primarily—a religious position. It is not.

A person does not have to believe in the Bible, the Catholic Church, or even God to ask the central question: What is the unborn child, and what obligations do we have toward him or her? That is a question involving biology, ethics, philosophy, human rights, and law—not merely theology.

But even if opposition to abortion were rooted entirely in religious conviction, the argument that religiously grounded morality should therefore have no bearing on law quickly falls apart. “Thou shalt not steal” is also a religious commandment. Yet even the most ardent secularist would presumably call the police if someone stole his car. Would we respond, “Who are you to impose your morality on the car thief?” “Thou shalt not murder” is likewise a religious commandment, but prohibitions against murder are hardly examples of religious tyranny.

The important question is not whether a moral conviction has religious support. The question is whether the conviction is true and just, and whether the conduct in question violates the rights of another human being.

Religious citizens do not cease to be citizens when they enter the voting booth. Neither should they be required to pretend that their deepest moral convictions have nothing to say about public justice.

The Problem With “Personally Opposed”

This is where the “personally opposed, but…” formulation becomes difficult to sustain. What exactly does “personally opposed” mean?

If someone says, “I am personally opposed to eating broccoli,” there is obviously no reason to prohibit anyone else from eating it. The objection concerns personal taste.

But abortion is not normally discussed that way by those who claim moral opposition to it. If a politician sincerely believes abortion is morally wrong because it intentionally ends an innocent human life, then the issue is no longer merely personal. We would never say:

“I am personally opposed to human trafficking, but I don’t want to impose my morality on traffickers.”

Or:

“I would never abuse my own child, but I don’t think my personal convictions should determine what another parent chooses.”

Those statements sound absurd because the actions involve another human being whose welfare and rights must also be considered.

That is precisely the point at issue in abortion.

“Personally opposed, but…” can therefore sound less like a principled moral position and more like a way to claim moral seriousness while avoiding every political consequence of that conviction. In other words, a cop out.

Personally Opposed? Then Show Us

There is another possibility, however.

Suppose a politician sincerely believes abortion is wrong but also sincerely believes that criminal prohibition is not the best or most effective response. One may disagree with that conclusion without accusing the politician of dishonesty.

Fine.

Then there should still be meaningful public consequences to being personally opposed.

If politicians genuinely oppose abortion, even while stopping short of supporting broad legal prohibition, it is reasonable to ask them to demonstrate that conviction. They could:

• Pledge not to accept campaign donations or endorsements from abortion lobbyists.
• Refuse to describe abortion as something to be celebrated.
• Stop treating expanded or unrestricted abortion access as a political achievement.
• Support informed-consent requirements and accurate disclosure concerning gestational development and available alternatives.
• Support pregnancy resource centers and other organizations that help women who want to carry their pregnancies to term rather than attacking or attempting to defund them.
• Refuse euphemisms designed to obscure what abortion actually does. And most importantly,
• Publicly explain why they are personally opposed to abortion and identify what, precisely, they believe is morally wrong about it.

None of those positions requires demanding prison sentences for women who obtain abortions. Nor does every one of them require supporting an absolute legal prohibition. They simply require the words “personally opposed” to mean something.

What Exactly Are You Opposed To?

If abortion takes the life of an innocent human being, then how can the government treat it merely as an exercise of personal autonomy? The unborn child would also have interests that the law must consider.

If, on the other hand, abortion does not take an innocent human life—if nothing of significant moral value is being destroyed—then what exactly is the politician personally opposed to? That is the tension buried inside the slogan.

One cannot invoke the gravity of abortion to establish one’s personal moral credentials and then invoke its moral insignificance when discussing public policy.

Either something morally serious happens in an abortion or it does not.

If it does, we should be willing to say what it is.

Faith in a Pluralistic Society

Cuomo was correct about one important principle: America is a pluralistic nation, not a church. Christians should not expect civil government to enforce every doctrine of Christian morality. But this pluralism does not require moral silence.

The abolitionists did not have to abandon religious arguments against slavery because slaveholders disagreed with them. Martin Luther King Jr. did not have to leave his biblical convictions in the pulpit before addressing civil rights. Religious convictions have repeatedly contributed to America’s moral debates.

The proper question is not, “Did your faith influence this belief?” The proper questions are: Is the belief true? Is the argument reasonable? Does justice require us to act?

Christians should be perfectly willing to make the case against abortion in terms accessible to people who do not share Christian faith. Biology can tell us what the unborn child is. Philosophy can help us consider what constitutes human equality. Ethics can ask whether size, location, dependency, or stage of development justifies denying protection to some human beings.

Our faith provides additional reasons for defending human life. It does not prevent us from making arguments in the public square.

Beyond Political Slogans

Mario Cuomo’s Notre Dame speech became one of the most influential articulations of the tension between private religious conviction and public policy on abortion. The questions it raised remain with us.

How should believers govern in a society where their neighbors do not share their faith?

How far should moral conviction extend into public policy?

Those are legitimate questions, and Christians should resist simplistic answers.

But we should also resist an easy escape hatch in which personally opposed becomes a substitute for actually opposing anything.

A politician does not necessarily have to support every proposal of the pro-life movement to demonstrate a sincere concern for unborn life. There is room for serious disagreement over strategy, criminal law, federalism, social policy, and how best to reduce abortion.

But there ought to be something.

Support the mother.

Support the child.

Support alternatives.

Support informed choice.

Support policies that make abortion less likely rather than more attractive.

And at the very least, stop pretending that the only two possibilities are imposing a church’s theology on America or treating abortion as an unrestricted private choice.

The real question is much more fundamental:

If you are personally opposed to abortion, what are you actually willing to do about it?

Keep It Real,
James

Note

1. Mario M. Cuomo, “Religious Belief and Public Morality: A Catholic Governor’s Perspective,” address at the University of Notre Dame, Notre Dame, Indiana, September 13, 1984, Notre Dame Archives.