The Unspoken

The Unspoken

I’ve read articles on the atrocities of the death camps that were constructed by Nazi Germany. They were horrible, horrible places. The citizens in the surrounding towns were herded together after the war to view for themselves the results of their silent assent. There were mounds and mounds of bodies, piled high with thin, skeletal, rotting remains of people. These were just the ones the Germans didn’t even have time to put through the furnaces. They were people like you or me, with families, who laughed, loved, cried and dreamed. People who were part of the “final solution” of eugenics, to rid the world of those who were substandard, of those who “didn’t matter.” 

The citizens of these surrounding towns were vilified, and rightfully so. Today we have war memorials, museums and exhibits to mark the tragedy of those days. Movies such as Schindler’s List have been made of the suffering that was endured, and the heroes who saved some from certain death. “Never forget,” and “never again” are slogans used to remind us that this blot, this stain on history should never again be repeated. 

But it has. It is happening right now. 

In “Horton Hears a Who,” the elephant Horton tries desperately to save a race of people living on a clover who are too small to hear or see. Instead of giving any concern or compassion towards the possibility that such people exist, Horton’s animal neighbors demand that the dust speck be boiled. Horton declares “a person’s a person, no matter how small.”

According to the World Health Organization, 50 million abortions have occurred world wide since 1990. 50 million. That’s more than the Holocaust and the Red Purge combined, and approaches the entire death count of WWII, 60 million. The number strikes me with sadness and regret. Why? Because like the citizens in the towns surrounding the death camps, I have remained mostly silent. Mostly quiet. Mostly unspoken. I am guilty individually; I am guilty as a part of a society that confirms with its collective silence its utter disregard, indeed, its antipathy and hatred for the blessing of life. This article is an attempt to correct my continued silence. 

The other day on I responded to a post on facebook to a comment about women’s health services, which, let’s be honest, can in some instances be used to refer to abortion. I stated that I believed abortion was murder and that I disliked my tax dollars being used in any way for it. The hatred was livid and instantaneous. “Shut the f*** up,” I was told, along with an assortment of angry red emoticons. 

I was shocked. I was stunned. I later removed my posts and apologized for any hurt feelings. But maybe I should not have. Maybe I should have doubled down. However, it was not my thread, not my name at the top, so I left well enough alone.

There are no large monuments to these small, unborn people with no voices that can be heard. I searched, but all I could find were little ones in church graveyards. There is no mourning, no crying from society, at least that I can hear on the news. It seems to me there is no mention of this tragedy at all from the government, which in at least one case has encouraged another country in Africa to begin this practice. We go along in life, filled with our jobs and entertainment, while the others who have no life are unspoken. I can't help but wonder what our reaction should be, should we be asked to pass aside mountains and mountains of jars, the results of our collective folly.

I believe this issue is one which merits further consideration. I believe the church needs to step up and offer alternatives such as increased opportunities for adoption. I believe a concerted effort should be made to advocate for birth control and safe practices such as was done when the AIDS epidemic hit in the 90’s. I also believe that we cannot remain silent in the face of such a tremendous, horrendous disaster as this waste, this disgrace of human life. We should be more human, more humane. Jesus said “In as much as you have done it to the least of these, you have done it unto me.” May God have mercy on us all. 

G.Houtchens

armchair coach

amateur historian