Abortion as a Logical Preferred Solution, and Avoiding Abortion as an Axiomatological Limit Case of Sacrifice, Love, and Moral Absolutes
In contemporary culture, abortion is increasingly framed as a matter of personal liberty—a symbolic pillar of autonomy, choice, self-determination, and even identification. Within this framework, its justification is fluid: it is whatever one claims it to be. It is “reproductive freedom,” “bodily autonomy,” or simply a “personal decision,” depending on the speaker’s preferred vocabulary. And if that is the case—if abortion is indeed a subjective exercise of freedom—then it must also be open to free inquiry, free doubt, and free metaphysical reflection. In other words, if abortion is framed as freedom, then the freedom to question it must be preserved—from all arguments of “pro-choice” to Anti-Christ Sugar Daddies.
Abortion is not merely a medical or social choice, but a paradigmatic test case—a metaphysical boundary line between value systems. As Axiomatology sees it, the refusal to abort a child under adverse conditions constitutes a limit case of existential sacrifice: the voluntary acceptance of maximal difficulty in the name of alignment with the deepest possible value — life itself. Thus, while abortion may be viewed as the logical and even socially encouraged “preferred solution” within modern frameworks of utilitarian individualism, its rejection under hardship becomes an act of ontological integrity. From this point onward, the article will explore how abortion reveals the structure of moral absolutism, the illusion of convenience-based ethics, and the cosmological significance of sacrificial love through the lens of Axiomatology.
Defining Abortion: The Postmodern Evasion
Any discussion of abortion necessarily presupposes a definition — but that is precisely where coherence begins to fracture. In contemporary discourse, the term abortion resists fixed meaning. It has become the ultimate Rorschach concept: endlessly interpretable, increasingly untethered from shared metaphysical ground. “Every life is different,” one might say. “These decisions are deeply personal,” or, “We can't judge what we don’t understand.” And with these sentiments — emotionally intuitive though they are — we step squarely into the postmodern sanctuary regarding the moral grounds of abortion and reach the all-time classic: “It depends.”
It is legal. It depends on the circumstances. It’s the responsibility of the individual. So goes the accepted mantra. Beyond this, anything further is usually seen not as moral reflection but as an attempt at moral superiority — thus taboo. And yet, what’s often missed in these cautious formulations is that abortion is never morally neutral. It always involves the potential cessation of a human life, however that life is defined or deferred.
This is precisely what makes the term powerful and disorienting: it can refer to everything from a mundane medical procedure to a profound metaphysical rupture. That spectrum is precisely the problem — and the reason Axiomatology intervenes to offer a different framework.
The Problem of Facts: Data as Justification
Attempting to ground one’s stance in factual objectivity — whether pro-life or pro-choice — is rarely as rational as it seems. Highly intelligent, open-minded individuals with high assertiveness can convincingly argue both sides. This is not due to moral relativism, but because the facts themselves are selected and arranged after the position has already been taken.
This is the illusion of empirical neutrality. Every fact brought into the argument — whether biological development timelines, maternal mortality rates, or socioeconomic consequences — serves to reinforce a pre-existing axiomatic stance. Even the attempt to define when life begins (at conception, at heartbeat, at viability, etc.) becomes a shell game of correlation, causation, and semantics.
Ultimately, in a context where statistics and symbols are emotionally loaded, the truth value of a fact is no longer defined by its structure but by its moral valence to the individual — especially to the mother. Rationality becomes camouflage for the deeper architecture of justification. We are not evaluating moral facts; we are arranging facts to protect moral choices.
From Argument to Orientation: Rejecting “It Depends”
Debating abortion through the lens of contingent data leads nowhere new. It mimics the structure of metaphysical debates about moral absolutes or the origin of the universe: the “Unmoved Mover,” the “First Cause,” or “Turtles all the way down.” The further away the focal point drifts, the easier it becomes to avoid a concrete answer — and the more palatable it becomes to settle on that philosophical tranquilizer: it depends.
But if one accepts “it depends” as a legitimate endpoint, then every moral position becomes equally fluid. Lying, stealing, betrayal — anything can be justified in the right narrative frame. This is precisely where moral clarity dissolves. And this is where Axiomatology draws a hard line.
Axiomatology does not claim that all answers are simple. But it insists that moral decisions require a structured hierarchy — not an infinite regression of relativistic caveats. The deeper truth is this: when “it depends” becomes a habitual mode of thought, one has already abdicated the ground needed for sacrifice, duty, and moral courage.
The Axiomatological Causality Paradox
Axiomatology accepts that freedom is real—but it distinguishes between two radically different uses of freedom: freedom for alignment versus freedom for preference. The former is anchored in an internal structure of values aligned with higher-order moral principles (Structured Internal Value Hierarchies, or SIVHs); the latter often dissolves into transient desires and momentary convenience. A suitable starting point for any serious moral or existential decision—such as the question of abortion—is the concept of freedom. And when it comes to serious questions, choices must eventually be made. We cannot maintain the position of not choosing. Just like the trivial question “Tea or coffee?”, which Slavoj Žižek famously mocked by simply answering, “Yes.”
For that, we first need to define freedom in the metaphysical sense: Do I believe I am free to make choices that causally affect the world?
This brings us directly to the problem of causality. In order to believe in freedom in any meaningful way, one must presuppose the existence of causality—the principle that one thing can bring about another. Surprisingly, this principle is not self-evident. David Hume’s skepticism already cast doubt on our naïve trust in causality, and Kant’s entire Critique of Pure Reason can be seen as an attempt to rescue structured knowledge from that very doubt.
Still, most people live their lives as though causality exists. If they slap their cheek, they feel it. If they drop their phone, it falls. If they insult a colleague, they expect a reaction. Everyday experience reinforces the appearance of cause and effect. Thus, the first question becomes: Do I believe in causality at all?
Next, we shall clarify three approaches to causality in order to define the range of personal freedom and responsibility.
1. Denial of Causality: “Everything Is Random”
The first possibility is the rejection of causality. A person who adopts this view believes everything in the universe happens by pure chance. There are no cause-effect linkages—just a stream of disconnected events. Under such a worldview, all human activity is meaningless. Nothing one does affects anything.
Interestingly, such people are rare. Even the most radical skeptic typically begins to believe in causality the moment their job security or salary is on the line. If this is truly your worldview, then any discussion of moral agency—including abortion—is moot. Your actions have no causal effect, and thus no responsibility attaches to them.
2. Acceptance of Causality Without Free Will: “All is Determined”
This second position is more widespread and philosophically robust. Here, the person accepts causality but denies that they are the initiator of causal chains. Events unfold according to a fixed script — perhaps dictated by fate, karma, God, biology, or cosmic necessity. In this view, agency is an illusion. One is merely a passive observer caught in the flow of determined outcomes.
There is no shame in holding this view. Many strands of Eastern philosophy and Western mysticism converge here. The emphasis shifts from freedom to preparedness—accepting what comes with equanimity. However, this also renders moral debate redundant. If we are merely riding the wave, there is no reason to argue about which direction to paddle.
3. Causality and Free Will: “My Choices Create Real Consequences”
This is the position that most people — consciously or unconsciously — actually operate from. They believe in causality and in the ability to initiate causal chains through choice. This, of course, is the bedrock of responsibility. If my decisions affect my future (and possibly others), then my freedom is not a metaphysical illusion. It is an existential commitmentl that comes with weight.
This belief structure enables not only the notion of moral agency, and justice, but also meaningful regret and repentance. If I could have done otherwise, then I am responsible for the consequences of what I chose.
Summary of Possibilities
No causality: Everything is random. Moral debate is irrelevant, as no action ever produces a predictable outcome.
Causality, but no free will: Events are determined. One can only observe and accept.
Causality and free will: One's decisions have real effects. This view grounds the concept of responsibility—and it is this view upon which Axiomatology builds.
Confrontation with Responsibility – Attempts to Escape to the “Middle Ground”
When one is presented with the Axiomatological framework — which logically binds causality and free will to the existence of personal responsibility — it is common to encounter evasive responses. These responses typically try to carve out a "middle ground," a sort of epistemological safe space where one affirms causality in principle, but denies its personal implications.
Here are the three most common evasions:
1. “Causality Is Probabilistic, Not Deterministic”
This is perhaps the most academically respectable of the escapes. One argues that causality exists, but it merely increases the probability of an outcome, rather than guaranteeing it. This view finds grounding in Bayesian logic, probabilistic modeling, and many naturalistic scientific frameworks.
Axiomatological response:
There is no issue here. This position affirms the possibility of causality and the exercise of free will. Even if causality operates probabilistically, one's actions still alter the likelihood landscape — and thus bear moral weight. In this view, a decision remains a causal intervention, not a neutral non-event. The responsibility holds.
2. “We Can Only See Causality Looking Backward”
This stance accepts the chain of cause and effect but places the ethical and existential burden outside the present moment. “We don’t know yet what the outcome will be,” one says, “and it might justify the action retroactively.” In this framing, present-day decisions are morally ambiguous because their full consequences are yet to unfold. Anything, therefore, might still turn out to be “good.”
Axiomatological response:
This is a dangerous and logically incoherent deferral. If the end can always justify the means, then no action can ever be judged until some undefined endpoint in the distant future — a future that may never arrive. This reduces moral deliberation to nihilism dressed as hope. Worse, it strips the present of any ethical gravity. Axiomatology firmly rejects this: every occasion matters now, even as its consequences reverberate. The integrity of this decision, in this node, is what composes the moral self.
3. “Causality Exists, But It’s Too Complex to Map”
This version admits both causality and agency but claims the chain of consequences is too complex to follow or predict. “So many factors influence outcomes,” one might say, “that no one event matters that much.” Every bad choice, they argue, can be diluted, redirected, or reframed by the chaos of life.
Axiomatological response:
Again, this is simply a concession that causality and free will exist, paired with an epistemic shrug. Not knowing how farthe consequences go does not absolve responsibility—it amplifies it. Precisely because we cannot fully grasp the ripple effects, we must treat each occasion as morally dense and causally dangerous. Uncertainty is not an excuse for passivity — it is a call for heightened integrity.
Conclusion: No Ethical “Middle Ground”
These escape routes — probabilistic vagueness, temporal deferral, and complexity-based fatalism — are, in effect, rhetorical shields against moral accountability. Each of them preserves the metaphysical structure of causality and freedom but tries to wriggle out of the existential burden they entail.
From the perspective of Axiomatology, they all still fall under the same umbrella:
1) You believe your actions matter. You believe your choices cause real effects.
2) Therefore: you are responsible.
3) Not just at some future date, not just theoretically — now.
Sad News – Escape Is an Illusion, Everything Matters
All theories of “limited causality” collapse under their own weight once a person has accepted two simple premises: (1) causality exists, and (2) free will allows influence over one’s destiny. From that point forward, one is logically bound to a stark and inescapable truth:
“What I do now may have an effect on my life and the lives of others to a degree I cannot fully grasp.”
A shrug and a “so what?” is a common reflex. But that is not a counterargument — it is a superficial reflex cloaked in ignorance. The real weight of that realization is this: if you do not know the limits of your influence, then you do not know the limits of your responsibility. The logic is relentless:
“One is responsible for absolutely everything they do.”
This isn’t a poetic metaphor. It is a literal, axiomatic consequence. The causal web in which every act becomes a node of potential resonance extends outward into other lives, other generations, and the symbolic fabric of history. In the context of Axiomatology, where every occasion becomes part of the permanent archive of universal consciousness, that responsibility is not just ethical — it is ontological.
And this is where it becomes psychologically unbearable.
The weight of such total responsibility is so heavy that it threatens to suppress a person entirely. It can make one weak, withdrawn, manic, or even insane. And so, most people — consciously or not — develop strategies of suppression, distraction, or semantic camouflage to avoid facing this truth. Entertainment, shallow spiritualism, ideological dogma, intellectual games — they all serve one goal: to avoid sitting in the full gravity of moral responsibility.
But once a person has understood the logic—once the axiomatic structure clicks into place—there is no going back. It is not easy to un-know what has been logically seen.
And so begins the real philosophical adulthood:
The end of “maybe.”
The end of “it depends.”
The end of escape.
At this point, the only real question is whether one will integrate this weight into a coherent moral structure—or continue to run from it while it tears the psyche apart from within.
Degrees of Responsibility for the Cause – Full Responsibility for the Fate
Once a person accepts the foundational axioms — namely, the existence of causality and the existence of free will — the next step is to confront a concrete reality: one is pregnant.
This fact, unlike theoretical models or semantic categories, does not require interpretation, nor is it up for debate. The person is either pregnant or not. If the answer is yes, and they are not the reincarnation of the Virgin Mary (which is, we can safely assume, extraordinarily unlikely), then they have participated in the causal chain that led to this reality. The degree of that participation may vary — it might have been minimal, it might have involved manipulation, negligence, naivety, coercion, or even victimhood — but some participation occurred. Even if one cannot reconstruct the full chain of causal events, the event itself has now arrived in actuality.
And this is the turning point: responsibility now shifts entirely to the present.
From the moment the fact of pregnancy is known, and the person is conscious and capable of understanding the consequences of decision-making, they bear full responsibility for what follows. Whether one chooses to label the unborn as a “child,” a “clump of cells,” or “a spark of Imago Dei,” the moral burden does not vanish. The ontology of the label does not neutralize the act. What exists is not semantics — it is pregnancy.
From this moment on, the decision bifurcates:
Either one proceeds with the abortion, or one does not.
There is no third path. Everything else — philosophical justification, emotional rationalization, political framing — merely cloaks the simplicity of this fork in the road. In Axiomatological terms, this is an occasion of maximal causal density: a limit-case where full metaphysical, moral, and subjective responsibility converges into a single decisive act.
And that act — once done — drops into eternity
Steelmanning the Main Arguments for Undergoing Abortion
Steelmanning — constructing the strongest version of an opposing argument — is not an infinite exercise when it comes to abortion. The number of conceptually distinct justifications is actually quite finite. Here are the most prominent:
1. "It’s not a person — no selfhood, no moral weight."
Pro-choice argument:
Early-stage pregnancy involves only a cluster of cells, lacking personhood, self-consciousness, or even a nervous system. Terminating it is seen as morally analogous to smashing an acorn — perhaps a symbolic gesture, but certainly not equivalent to cutting down a full-grown oak.
Axiomatological response:
There is no need to dispute the biological stages of fetal development. Pregnancy clearly progresses in phases. From the standpoint of Axiomatology, what matters is not how we semantically frame the "clump of cells," but what that entity represents in terms of narrative potential. The central question is simple: Could this process plausibly result in the birth of a human being? If the answer is yes (even probabilistically), then its abortion is the act that eliminates that possibility with certainty. That is all that needs to be established. The moral weight arises not from what the fetus is, but from what it could become — abortion is the deliberate negation of that future.
2. “My body, my choice!”
Pro-choice argument:
Perhaps the most iconic slogan of the pro-choice movement. Pregnancy is a profound imposition — physically, psychologically, and existentially. No other context allows a person to be legally or morally required to surrender their bodily autonomy for the benefit of another. Judith Jarvis Thomson’s famous thought experiment frames this: if you woke up involuntarily attached to a famous violinist who needs your kidneys for nine months to survive, are you morally obligated to remain connected?
The crux of the argument is a weighing: bodily autonomy and risk vs. the potential future of a life.
Axiomatological response:
The central concern is not who initiated the pregnancy, whether it was wanted or accidental, nor the precise context of conception. These are circumstantial modifiers — but they do not touch the categorical truth.
The truth is: the mother is carrying her own potential descendant. This is not a stranger, not a violinist, not a philosophical abstraction. It is a concrete genetic continuity that, if uninterrupted, has a significant probability of becoming a distinct human being. The woman’s body is not being “used” by another autonomous agent — it is completing its own internal narrative arc through biological and metaphysical continuity.
Abortion does not merely reject an imposition; it terminates a lineage in which the mother herself plays an originating causal role. Carrying the pregnancy forward may or may not impose hardship — but it preserves a possibility. Abortion ensures its absolute negation. That asymmetry is not one of bodily risk, but of ontological finality.
3. Conflicting responsibilities
Pro-choice argument:
Abortion can be viewed not as a rejection of moral responsibility but as a deeply moral decision in the face of competing obligations. The mother might already be caring for children whose well-being could be compromised by another birth. She may be navigating mental health crises, economic devastation, or intimate partner abuse. From this perspective, abortion is not a convenience but a choice made in a tragic moral dilemma, where one must weigh competing goods.
This is similar to the trolley problem in moral philosophy: pulling a lever to redirect a trolley may cause one death but save five. In this framing, abortion is not a denial of value to fetal life — but rather the lesser evil when all other outcomes imply even greater suffering. In some cases, it might even be argued that giving birth would be the less responsiblechoice.
Axiomatological response:
The logic here hinges on a category error. That error lies in comparing a possibility with a certainty, and treating them as morally equivalent. Yes — giving birth may result in poverty, difficulty, or intergenerational suffering. But none of these are certain. Every one is a prediction, based on perceived trends, memory fragments, or imagined outcomes. In contrast, abortion introduces a definitive certainty: the irreversible cessation of a potential future life. The child, if carried to term, might suffer. If aborted, it will never be.
Axiomatology does not deny the difficulty or tragedy of conflicting responsibilities. It simply insists that we distinguish between moral complexity and ontological finality. Abortion is not just a painful balancing act — it is a final interruption of a causal lineage, a metaphysical severing that removes not just a hypothetical future but the entire possibility of that life. That difference matters.
4. It’s just a theoretical potentiality of a child, not a child itself
Pro-choice argument:
Argument drawing on a fundamental distinction between potentiality and actuality. The fetus, particularly in its early stages, is not yet a person in the moral or legal sense—it merely has the potential to become one. And potentiality, this view argues, is not morally equivalent to actuality. We do not treat sperm, eggs, or zygotes with funerary reverence. We do not mourn every fertilized egg that fails to implant. To elevate all potential life to the moral status of actualized persons would paralyze ethical reasoning, leading to untenable consequences in everyday life.
Axiomatological response:
Axiomatology accepts this distinction outright: a fetus is not yet a child, and its life is not ontologically complete. However, the moral significance does not rest on current actuality, but on the direction of the process and the possibility that is being terminated.
What matters is not whether the fetus is already a person — but whether the act of abortion renders impossible a future that was already possible. In this framework, abortion is not merely the termination of a cell structure. It is the annulment of a metaphysical trajectory, the cutting off of a real possibility — one that, absent intervention, would likely have culminated in a conscious, experiencing being.
Unlike sperm or eggs, which require external action to initiate a potential life, a pregnancy is already in process. It has already crossed the threshold from possible initiation to developing reality. Abortion does not prevent a choice — it actively reverses one already set into motion. That distinction is crucial. Thus, the moral weight in Axiomatology stems not from the current status of the fetus, but from the irrevocability of the decision to halt what has already begun—a decision turning potential into impossibility, with certainty.
5. “I will not survive this mentally!”
Pro-choice argument:
One of the most emotionally grounded arguments in favor of abortion. It reframes the act not as convenience but as survival — mental, physical, economic, or even existential. For many women, especially single mothers lacking support, embedded in poverty, facing job loss, enduring domestic abuse, or suffering medical complications, abortion is not framed as a desire, but as a desperate necessity.
This argument holds that forcing a woman to carry a pregnancy under such systemic constraints may exacerbate trauma, perpetuate injustice, and erode the conditions necessary for even baseline well-being. From this perspective, moral agency is not denied, but rather expressed through the difficult decision to abort. In this light, abortion becomes a tragic but morally permissible act under unbearable external conditions.
Axiomatological response:
Axiomatology does not dismiss the gravity of these circumstances. It acknowledges the intense psychological and social pressures that can make carrying a pregnancy feel existentially threatening. However, it proposes a categorical distinction between probabilistic suffering and ontological certainty.
The crux of the issue:
Continuing the pregnancy may, with high probability, lead to extreme hardship, psychological distress, or even breakdown.
However, abortion is the absolute and irreversible termination of a potential life-path.
These are not morally symmetrical options. Axiomatology emphasizes that the certain cessation of becoming (via abortion) cannot be equated with the possibility of mental collapse or life derailment. The decision matrix here involves comparing a probable negative trajectory with an absolute ontological finality. Additionally, the claim “I will not survive this mentally” rests on a future prediction — an emotionally valid but epistemologically uncertain forecast. It is not an established fact, but a psychological premonition, one that may or may not manifest, depending on multiple complex and shifting variables. Even in extreme hardship, existence remains open, whereas abortion closes a door permanently — not only for the child, but for the self, insofar as it reshapes moral identity from that point onward.
Axiomatology does not minimize suffering. But it asks: is it moral to exchange an uncertain hardship for a certain end to a metaphysical trajectory? That is the moral asymmetry at the heart of this dilemma.
6. “If there is no murder, there is no problem.”
Pro-choice argument:
Argument resting on moral pluralism and cultural relativism, pointing out that not all traditions or philosophical systems define life or personhood as beginning at conception. For instance, traditional Judaism typically places the full moral status of personhood later in gestation, and many secular frameworks treat moral status as emerging gradually with neural development or viability. From this view, imposing a singular metaphysical definition of life — especially one rooted in a specific religious or ontological stance — is considered a form of ideological tyranny.
Argument asserts: If abortion does not meet the criteria of murder under one's moral system, then it carries no intrinsic moral problem. The act becomes an ethically neutral or morally contextual decision, no different from choosing not to conceive in the first place. It prioritizes ethical sovereignty and the right to define moral boundaries in personal or cultural terms.
Axiomatological response:
This argument holds weight only if one assumes there is no ontological difference between preventing conception and actively intervening in an already unfolding metaphysical narrative. Axiomatology categorically rejects this conflation.
Abortion is not a passive non-act, like using contraception or abstaining from sex. It is an active metaphysical intervention. It halts an already initiated process that, without interference, holds the plausible potential to result in the emergence of a new locus of consciousness—a new structured being with its own value hierarchy and capacity for moral agency.
This is not a debate over semantics or competing cultural definitions. It’s a metaphysical differentiation between:
Potentiality that has not begun (e.g., condom use, abstinence), and
Potentiality already in motion that must be actively dismantled to prevent further development (abortion).
From the standpoint of Axiomatology, every Self Fusion process (the emergence of new experiential nodes) is a composition of physical, conceptual, and moral prehensions. Pregnancy is the biological substrate through which such prehensive chains are instantiated. Once that process has begun, terminating it requires action against a becoming. That action carries irreversible metaphysical consequences — even if different traditions do not label it “murder.”
This is not about terminology. It’s about ontological rupture: the intentional cessation of a causal chain that was otherwise aligned with a probable continuation toward selfhood. In Axiomatology, the issue is not murder per se — it is narrative destruction. Ending an unfolding occasion with causal and moral potential is not ethically neutral, regardless of one's metaphysical vocabulary.
7. Biological Realism Argument
Pro-choice argument:
A large proportion of fertilized eggs fail to implant or are expelled naturally due to chromosomal abnormalities or other biological factors — estimates range between 30–70%. These “natural losses” are not mourned or ritualized. If moral personhood truly begins at conception, then nature itself commits mass death every month. Yet society treats spontaneous miscarriage very differently from abortion, implying an intuitive distinction. From this view, abortion during early stages — especially pre-implantation or before the development of a central nervous system—may not be morally worse than a biologically routine process of early embryonic attrition.
Axiomatological response:
This argument commits a categorical conflation between biological inevitability and moral agency. It mistakes natural loss for intentional intervention, and in doing so, obscures the key Axiomatological principle: the difference between passive occurrence and willed disruption of an unfolding metaphysical trajectory.
In Axiomatological terms:
Miscarriage (or non-implantation) is the failure of a possibility to actualize due to biological limits. It does not involve any subjective intention or ethical participation.
Abortion, in contrast, is the deliberate interruption of an already-initiated potentiality — an active refusal to allow the Self Fusion process (composition of future occasions) to unfold. That introduces moral causality and demands responsibility.
Even if society does not mourn a miscarriage in the same way it might a born child, mourning is not the metric of moral significance. Cultural practices of grief are contingent, but ontological causality is not. The metaphysical weight of abortion stems not from whether others grieve the act, but from the fact that a causal agent knowingly terminates a becoming.
8. “Giving Birth Will Cause More Suffering in the World”
Pro-choice argument:
In triage ethics, actual persons take precedence over potential ones. When a pregnancy poses significant risks — psychological, financial, social — especially in already overburdened or abusive contexts, abortion is viewed as a pragmatic, even morally preferable act. Raising a child one cannot support may create neglect, intergenerational trauma, or societal strain. Hence, moral reasoning should prioritize existing conscious beings over speculative futures. Furthermore, data shows that many women experience relief post-abortion rather than psychological harm. Abortion, then, becomes not an act of selfishness, but a compassionate and realistic triage of suffering.
Axiomatological response:
This argument assumes that predicted suffering of a potential future life can justify the definitive removal of that life’s possibility. It is a powerful and emotionally resonant stance — but it hinges on a conceptual error: the equation of probability with certainty.
In Axiomatological terms:
Yes, the birth of a child may lead to suffering—and in many cases, it almost certainly will. Suffering is not an argument against existence, because suffering is embedded into the metaphysical fabric of life itself (as explored in the “You Walk Before Me” thesis).
The possibility of suffering is not an ontological justification for aborting an occasion’s narrative trajectory — unless we are prepared to argue that non-existence is always better than uncertain existence. That would be a nihilistic stance with unresolvable ethical implications.
Moreover, from a process perspective:
All human potentialities, when allowed to proceed, may lead to suffering — or to redemption, creative transformation, moral growth, and contributions to the moral order. That open-endedness is what gives moral decisions weight.
Abortion, by contrast, is ontological finality. It closes the loop. It collapses possibility into zero. Even if done from compassionate motives, it eliminates the very field in which moral development might arise.
Thus:
You are comparing predictive suffering with absolute metaphysical cessation.
You are weighing an unknown future against a known non-future.
From an Axiomatological standpoint, this is not a morally symmetrical trade.
Ethical triage cannot be based on epistemic fear of pain, especially when the act of triage terminates not just suffering, but the entire potentiality of agency, love, and redemption.
9. “It’s in the Future Child’s Best Interest”
Pro-choice argument:
Abortion, in some contexts, can be seen as an act of moral responsibility focused on the prospective child’s interests—not selfishness. When a mother foresees a future filled with trauma, neglect, addiction, or severe instability, she may view the continuation of the pregnancy as a sentence of suffering for the child. Choosing abortion under such conditions can be a painful but self-aware decision, rooted in long-term ethical foresight. The argument is not that life itself is undesirable, but that this particular life, under these conditions, would be marred by unacceptable harm.
Thus, abortion can be interpreted as an act of love, protection, and the refusal to bring a child into a world unfit to hold them. This logic resonates with tragic literary examples, such as Inger in Knut Hamsun’s Growth of the Soil, who kills her newborn to spare the child from shame due to a harelip — insisting to herself that she is protecting the child from lifelong rejection.
Axiomatological response:
This argument represents a profound ethical impulse — an attempt to act on behalf of another being’s well-being. Yet, it crosses into a metaphysical boundary when it assumes divine-level foresight, implicitly claiming the capacity to:
Predict the full arc of another being’s life,
Assess its value across decades,
Judge its worthiness for existence based on current chaos,
And render a final verdict on its viability before it even begins.
Axiomatology categorically challenges this epistemic overreach. While it acknowledges the sincerity of the intent, it also exposes the unresolvable contradiction: one cannot protect a child from suffering by ensuring it never exists. That is not moral foresight — it is existential finality. The fetus does not suffer “too much” — it simply never becomes.
To be precise:
The harm predicted is probabilistic and cannot be guaranteed.
The outcome of abortion is ontologically absolute: the end of that potential forever.
The claim to act in the “child’s best interest” collapses, because the child never becomes. The concept of “interest” presupposes personhood and agency that the act of abortion denies.
Therefore, the argument — though compassionate in tone — ultimately collapses into moral solipsism. It cloaks irreversible denial of being in the language of future protection. It assigns a voice to a subject whose very becoming is being prevented.
In Axiomatological terms: only a God can know whether life would have been worth living. And unless the mother has assumed that mantle, her judgment remains, inevitably, a projection of her own narrative onto an unborn future. Abortion here is not moral foresight—it is narrative foreclosure.
10. “It Is All Legal—Why Should I Choose a Harder Life?”
Pro-choice argument:
Thatg is a version of the “not a murder” argument. Even if abortion has some moral weight, not all morally complex actions should be outlawed. Legal enforcement can cause far greater damage — unsafe procedures, disproportionate burdens on marginalized women, or criminalization of miscarriage. Moral liberty in deeply personal decisions is a cornerstone of democratic societies. Moreover, choosing abortion can be a recognition of one’s own limits, a refusal to martyr oneself under unjust social or economic conditions. If the act is legal, and the mother takes full responsibility for it, then no external system — moral or metaphysical — has grounds to interfere.
Axiomatological response:
This is strong formal defense of abortion, and Axiomatology does not deny its force. It acknowledges legality and democratic pluralism. It does not argue for criminalization or punitive measures. It offers, instead, an internal framework of moral structure and metaphysical resonance.
Axiomatology is not a legal doctrine — it is an ontological lens. And from that lens, legality does not exhaust moral responsibility. Legality defines what the state permits; Axiomatology examines what the cosmos records. Thus, this argument is not refuted—it is affirmed. Yes, it is legal. Yes, the woman is free to make her choice.
In this sense, the closing of potentiality through abortion is not just a medical or personal decision — it is a cosmic act of closure, and it carries ontological weight.
Axiomatology: There Is No Logical Reason Not to Undergo Abortion
From a purely rational standpoint — stripped of emotional appeals or theological assumptions — Axiomatology accepts that there is no logically compelling argument against abortion, when the decision is analyzed through the lens of probabilistic self-suffering, predicted outcomes, and empirical strain.
To be precise: There is no scenario where continuing a pregnancy guarantees less suffering, greater happiness, or objectively “better” outcomes for the mother—especially not when one analyzes the situation using empirical data, anthropological trends, biological toll, and social realities. Let us examine this systematically:
1. Emotional and Existential Hardship
Raising a child as a single mother is, in most cases, an existentially destabilizing burden. Every new occasion of experience will now be fused with new prehensions of constraint, limitation, fear, and sacrifice. These prehensions are not symbolic — they are visceral, embodied, recurring, and temporally irreversible.
In many cases, the woman is:
Alone in responsibility.
In economic hardship.
Psychologically unprepared or overwhelmed.
From the standpoint of available potential, the Self Fusion process becomes clogged by urgent prehensions of exhaustion, regret, and disrupted alignment with desired future occasions. There is no theoretical model that argues carrying a pregnancy as a single mother is easier than terminating it.
2. Romantic and Social Impact
From a biological and socio-demographic standpoint, giving birth — especially outside a stable, monogamous, long-term relationship — dramatically reduces a woman’s long-term mate value in the dating and marriage marketplace. This is not a moral statement; it is a statistical one.
Most men, across cultures, are not biologically wired nor psychologically inclined to raise other men’s children. The probability of finding a committed partner with equal status or resources post-childbirth drops considerably.
This means a significant portion of desired future scenarios (e.g., “being loved,” “falling in love,” “starting a new life,” “building a new family”) become less accessible. That is a real structural cost to potential.
3. Financial Reality
Even if the father is financially well-off, the early stages of motherhood are financially and energetically depleting. The entire 18+ year undertaking can be viewed as an open-ended contract with virtually unlimited downside risk.
No rational economic model would label it a “safe investment”:
It is unhedged.
It depends on another party (the father, who may disappear).
It adds unpredictability to every future node of life.
There is no guaranteed upside. Only theoretical narratives (“he’ll step up,” “I’ll figure it out,” “the system will help me”)—which often collapse under pressure.
4. Biological Cost
Pregnancy is not neutral. It is biologically invasive.
It accelerates aging.
It reshapes the immune, hormonal, and nervous system.
It alters the very architecture of the brain — permanently.
It increases long-term risk of chronic fatigue, depression, anxiety, and postpartum complications.
Parenting is not a return to baseline — especially for mothers. The idea that women “bounce back” is a marketing fantasy. From a neurophysiological standpoint, they become fundamentally different beings — and not necessarily happier ones.
5. Empirical Happiness Data
Decades of empirical research (e.g. from Daniel Gilbert, Kahneman, Easterlin) indicate:
Parents, especially mothers, report lower life satisfaction than their child-free counterparts.
Single mothers score lowest across all well-being metrics: financial stress, sleep deprivation, anxiety, long-term regret.
Even among married couples, life satisfaction declines after the birth of the first child and often never recovers.
Axiomatology aligns with this: The addition of a child introduces entropy into future occasions. This entropy is only harnessed and moralized if the SIVH is already structured to prioritize love, sacrifice, and duty above personal happiness.
Conclusion: Logical Honesty and Predictive Clarity
It is logically irrefutable that abortion reduces short-term and mid-term suffering for the mother in most cases. Carrying the pregnancy to term introduces:
Higher costs,
Greater uncertainty,
More constraints,
And near-certain future hardship.
Therefore, from a cold, probabilistic, rational lens abortion emerges as the logical path of least resistance.
There is no purely logical argument to not undergo abortion if:
Happiness is the goal,
Suffering is to be minimized,
Freedom is to be preserved,
And potential is treated as a finite energy source over time.
Axiomatological Truth About Not Undergoing Abortion
As already established, there is no logical argument for not undergoing abortion. Ironically, steelmanning the pro-choice arguments wasn’t even necessary. Nothing quantifiable—no cost–benefit analysis, no utilitarian framework, no predictive social modeling—can outweigh the concrete and measurable burdens of continuing a pregnancy. One cannot “overscore” and mathematically prove that avoiding abortion would be “better” for the mother, for society, or for the planet. Such strict logic does not exist. In every calculable frame, choosing to keep the pregnancy can be made to appear as a mistake—a logical error.
The argument against abortion can only be metaphysical, irrational in the strict sense, and unquantifiable. And that is exactly what makes it worthy of ontological investigation.
Guaranteed Suffering
Choosing not to abort means choosing suffering. Both short-term and long-term. It is, in Kierkegaardian terms, a leap of faith — a jump into the abyss without any guarantee of being caught. No decision generates more foreseeable suffering than carrying an unwanted pregnancy to term and raising the resulting child.
Regardless of the context — whether the mother is alone, or with a partner who may also be the father, who is most likely insufficient, underdeveloped, or even outright harmful — the relationship is far from ideal. The child will likely grow up in an imperfect household, maybe without a stable father figure, perhaps even without extended family. There is no assurance of a “bright future.” In fact, the most likely outcome is a series of hardships. Life is tragic. Aggression, cruelty, illness, failure, and loss are part of the package. That tragic pattern will also touch the child, inevitably, as Elliot Aronson so clearly observed in The Social Animal.
This is an uphill battle. An underdog’s fight. The kind of existential struggle that carves into one’s soul. One must face “the whips and scorns of time” directly. Is that even reasonable? Is it doable? Not really. At least not in any ordinary sense. It is not logical. It is not justifiable. It is guaranteed, irreversible suffering. Voluntarily stepping onto a cross. Nine months of physical and psychological transformation followed by years — eighteen, maybe more — of commitment, responsibility, loss of freedom, and emotional instability.
One can find endless examples of mothers who admit, quietly or loudly, that they regret the entire ordeal. Who wonder whether they might have been better off sipping margaritas on a beach with a wealthy suggar daddy type of partner who paid for the abortion and let them live freely.
And yet — some women do survive. Even thrive. Some go through worse circumstances and come out stronger. And that forces the deepest existential question: What is my limit? Will I die if I keep the child? Most likely not. So the decision becomes a confrontation with my potential. A limit case not of my body, but of my belief. Not the outer limit of my capabilities as a human being or as a mother — but the self-imposed limit of what I feel I deserve, want, or need.
In the simplest terms: I choose less suffering. I choose a higher quality of life for myself, over the possibility of life for the child. I deactivate potential to avoid pain. I choose myself over my possible offspring.
And that is the final axiom. No justification is required. It is a plain and simple value decision.
Rejection of Love
Relationships can grow colder. Children may grow up with personality traits that test their parents' patience or even their affection. But one thing remains remarkably constant — there is no love quite like the love of a child for their mother. It is innocent, unfiltered, and practically infinite. The infant-mother attachment is not merely biological — it is spiritual, archetypal. In the early years of life, it is a love that cannot be broken by any force external to the dyad. If it breaks, it breaks from within. And until adolescence, that break can only come from the mother.
That is the deeper meaning embedded in every pregnancy: the potential emergence of a love that is unequaled in purity and strength. Choosing abortion is not simply the termination of a biological process — it is, at its core, a rejection of that love before it even has a chance to be born. It is a refusal to receive it, and therefore also a refusal to offer it.
In Axiomatological terms, abortion is a boundary-setting act. It defines, implicitly but undeniably, how much love one is willing to give and how much one is willing to receive. The boundless, unconditional nature of maternal love — mythically and psychologically encoded in the archetype of the Mother — is collapsed into something finite and negotiable. Motherhood becomes strategic. Love becomes conditional. The sanctity of the maternal is fragmented into something partial, contingent, even adversarial under certain conditions.
This isn't merely a philosophical or symbolic consequence. It has tangible implications across time and relation. Once love is limited — once it becomes calculable — it is no longer the Absolute. The moment one says, “I cannot love beyond this point,” one sets a condition, a threshold that applies not only to this particular potential child, but also retroactively and prospectively: to all children, including those already born.
And if there are living siblings, even if they are never told explicitly, they will sense the metaphysical fact: “I am alive not because I was inherently worthy of infinite maternal love, but because it was convenient at the time — because mother had a partner, or money, or stability. My existence is circumstantial, not sacrificial.” That realization, even if unspoken, lodges itself in the child's implicit memory. It undermines the symbolic ground of maternal love and introduces the notion that it can be withdrawn—or worse, was never infinite to begin with.
This too is a fact. Just as choosing abortion sets a limit to one's willingness to sacrifice, it also sets a condition to one’s capacity to love. And once love becomes conditional, it becomes measurable. No longer does it speak the language of eternity. It becomes a finite exchange within moral economy.
And with that, the possibility to claim unconditional love — either as truth or as archetype — is forfeited.
History: Moral Non-Past and the Archetype of Preservation
In the context of processual becoming — of node-by-node occasion composition — the weight of consciousness in the moment of deciding whether or not to terminate a pregnancy cannot be overstated. It is not a relational decision. It is a decision about reality itself. It is not merely existential. It is ontological.
Within Axiomatology, we introduce the term “moral non-past”—a concept that includes not only the actions taken, but the actions not taken; the decisions not actualized but forever possible. It is the repository of unchosen sacrifice. In this frame, abortion is not a forgotten alternative or a faded fork in the road. It is a permanent ontological imprint in the moral non-past. It is the act that crystallizes what could have been into what can never be.
No amount of societal validation or interpersonal reassurance can erase the metaphysical fact that a node was generated in the stream of time — a node that will forever ripple forward. Regardless of the semantic justifications used to narrate it to children, grandchildren, or peers, there is now one sentence that cannot ever be said truthfully:
“One should always choose the harder path and give everything for one’s children.”
After abortion, that claim becomes circumstantial at best, and performative at worst. The moral order has been relativized. What remains is not moral absoluteness but contextual survival strategy. In a broader historical and archetypal context, abortion becomes the prototype for resolving the most extreme form of conflict between comfort and duty. It becomes, whether consciously or not, the lesson taught by the life that follows it:
When the crisis comes, preserve yourself. Choose what feels better. Abandon moral absolutes in favor of subjective sustainability.
And this is a way of life — one must own it, not mask it. That is its moral price. With it comes a significant consequence:
One loses the moral high ground to judge others who have endured greater hardship and still chosen sacrifice.
One forfeits the right to invoke universal motherhood or speak as an embodiment of unconditional love.
The act does not merely define a moment. It defines a metaphysical structure of decision-making — and that structure radiates outward. It teaches others not through words but through modeled ontology. Children, partners, friends, even unknown observers are marked by the metaphysical residue of that choice. And because meaning is not consumed or received but generated through sacrifice, the non-act becomes an act with ontological weight.
No psychological study can prove this. No statistics can disprove it. Meaning is not measurable. It is transmitted through suffering, through impossible choices endured, not evaded. As in the deepest recesses of biblical, mythological, and historical sacrifice — from Abraham to Antigone to Maximilian Kolbe — the meaning of one’s life is not determined by surviving, but by what one was willing to die for, or at minimum, suffer irrevocably for.
Abortion, then, is not a solitary event. It is a signal in history, affecting the memory structure of everyone whose life story you touch. As long as one’s name is remembered, the structure of that choice will be remembered with it. This is not a curse, but a truth — one that demands the full dignity of being acknowledged.
From Tragedy to Hell to Parody
If there is one thing that can deepen the moral weight of abortion beyond the act itself, it is the lie that often surrounds it — especially when directed at the other party involved. In Knut Hamsun’s Growth of the Soil, we find a chilling archetype of moral concealment and existential evasion. Inger, a woman marked by a harelip, kills her newborn child “because” the infant shares her deformity. Her motive is not malicious, nor rooted in hatred or impulsive rage. It is shame — the internalized social gaze, the pre-emptive rejection, the fear of transmitting her own humiliation. She denies the Will of God — the moral lure toward life — out of the belief that she knows better.
But what is more destructive than the act itself is the cover-up that follows.
Inger hides the murder. She constructs a stable and even admirable persona: she becomes a mother (to her surviving children), a wife, a community member. She is “useful.” But it is a usefulness founded on a suppressed moral fracture. She builds a life upon a negation.
This literary archetype is not a historical relic — it is prophetic. Modern abortion discourse follows the same arc. It avoids the ontological language of life and death, and replaces it with a morally sanitized vocabulary: Choice. Autonomy. Reproductive freedom. Privacy. Emotional healing. Future potential. Career stability.
The actual content of the justifications has barely changed since Hamsun:
“It wasn’t really a child.”
“I couldn’t offer a good life.”
“It would have had health issues.”
“I had to prioritize my healing, my education, my dreams.”
Each of these mirrors Inger’s internal monologue—the twisted mercy that masks moral terror.
What follows in both cases is identity reconstruction:
Inger returns from prison surgically altered and socially polished.
Today’s culture offers post-abortion identities: the empowered woman, the trauma survivor, the self-loving professional, the woman “open to new love.”
But beneath all of these lies a fractured ontology — an identity rebuilt over an unacknowledged moral truth. One may build a life atop it. One may succeed socially, financially, and romantically. But in Axiomatology, this amounts to a parodic structure — a structure built on moral disintegration masked by semantic refinement.
The progression is simple:
Tragedy: The unbearable decision.
Hell: The silent inner rupture — the denial of one’s own absolute capacity for love and sacrifice.
Parody: The rebranded self, wrapped in therapeutic slogans and self-help affirmations, divorced from the cost of truth.
What cannot coexist are moral absolutes and abortion. Axiomatologically, one must choose between a metaphysics grounded in sacrificial coherence—or a relativism that reframes existential rupture as "healing." Once the lie becomes the foundation of identity, the architecture of meaning fractures. The tragedy becomes a lifestyle. Hell becomes a coping strategy - moral truth becomes a punchline.
The True Sin — Continuous Lying and Normalization
Knut Hamsun shows us what most moral philosophies dare not: Infanticide is not the peak of moral collapse. It is the starting point. The greater spiritual corruption unfolds in its concealment.
Inger, in Growth of the Soil, does not simply commit an unthinkable act. She commits an existential fraud. She buries her guilt in the silence of domestic routine. She dresses the corpse of moral horror with the clothes of civilization: the mother, the wife, the diligent homemaker. And this is not atonement — it is performance. She no longer lives in truth. She lives in narrative fabrication.
This is the true blasphemy — not the act, but the redefinition of evil as necessity.
It is not the fall, but the refusal to call it a fall. It is the systematic rejection of the Spirit’s inner witness — the suppression of truth’s whisper in the soul.
“Truly I tell you, people can be forgiven all their sins and every slander they utter, but whoever blasphemes against the Holy Spirit will never be forgiven; they are guilty of an eternal sin.”
—Mark 3:28–29 (NIV)
Inger’s sin becomes eternal because it metastasizes into a worldview. She rewrites her morality not with repentance, but with justification. She constructs a false self—a surgically polished identity built atop a void where truth was meant to reside. Her civilization becomes a mask, not a path to grace. Her new life is the reward of forgetting—not the fruit of redemption.
In Hamsun’s symbolic universe, she distances herself from the soil—the elemental reality of labor, consequence, and humility. The soil is not just literal. It is spiritual. It is where blood and sacrifice meet truth. (Just a note: I do not approve of everything Hamsun advocated in his later life, but that does not mean the symbolic mechanics here are incorrect. Nowadays, Sugar Babes act the same—just with their lower lips. Postmodernism justifies everything.) By elevating herself socially without reconciling morally, she separates herself from the very rhythm of truth itself.
This is the unforgivable sin — not because God refuses forgiveness, but because the sinner refuses to confess. It is the calcification of pride under the banner of progress. It is the annihilation of meaning through comfort and style. It is the formation of a life atop a lie — and the lie is not simply told, it is institutionalized.
This parallels the modern abortion ethos.
Today, abortion is no longer merely an act. It has become a cultural symbol—ritualized, normalized, celebrated.
In media, it is cast as a milestone in the journey of a strong, independent woman.
In academia, resistance to it is recoded as oppression, religiosity, or patriarchal control.
In digital culture, regret or grief is dismissed as internalized misogyny.
The consequence? Truth becomes parody.
And parody is the enemy of meaning, because it makes moral tragedy into entertainment or empowerment.
The abortion itself may be a momentary act. But the post-abortion lie—that it was neutral, trivial, empowering, or even compassionate — creates a spiritual fault line that reconfigures every future value judgment, every future identity. And when this lie becomes structurally embedded in culture, it is no longer a private deception. It is systemic sacrilege.
Anti-Christ Sugar Daddies
It takes the full force of the dark triad — narcissism, Machiavellianism, and psychopathy — to embody the sugar daddy archetype who initiates a sexual relationship with a young pregnant woman, one that ultimately leads to the termination of that pregnancy. This isn’t simply a moral lapse; it’s the ritual performance of moral nihilism — a grotesque inversion of responsibility, care, and sacrifice. In such arrangements, there are no values, no permanence, no reverence for life. Everything is permitted if it is pleasurable, convenient, or legally tolerated. There are no limits. Sexuality becomes deracinated, stripped of covenant or consequence, and reduced to a theater of gratification. Elderly men, often old enough to be the fathers of these women, engage not only in exploitative desire but in intergenerational desecration — and when the affair results in abortion, they become co-authors of erased futures, participants in a spiritual transaction where life is sacrificed for lust.
What makes these men even more dangerous is that they are often not young fools but elderly escapees of failed marriages — men at the threshold or aftermath of dissolving long-term unions. Instead of seeking wisdom, reconciliation, or redemption, they turn bitter, unrooted, and symbolically Luciferian: they now desire to desecrate the ideal they once swore to uphold. The covenant they failked to uphold becomes a mirror they can no longer face — so they attack its image in others. This is the Cainian archetype: having failed to offer a worthy sacrifice themselves, they now murder the future out of resentment. They are not simply falling into temptation — they are willing participants in the destruction of creation, rejecting the burden of legacy and choosing instead to unmake what they once vowed to protect. Their affair with a younger woman is not mere indulgence — it is spiritual revenge against the sacred order of family, fidelity, and generational continuity.
Jesus Christ represented the limit-case of sacrifice. The crucifixion is the eternal moral threshold — a completely innocent man, betrayed by his closest friends, condemned by falsehoods, and murdered for crimes he did not commit. He was nailed to the cross in public shame, in front of his mother and under the silent gaze of his heavenly Father. It was the moment where love bore all sin, and where the Son sacrificed himself for the life of others. A Father gave up His Son for the world; a mother lost her only descendant; a man willingly embraced death that others might live.
But the sugar daddy is the inverted image of Christ. He does not give his life to save another — he takes another's future to prolong his own fantasy. Instead of suffering for others, he exploits others to avoid suffering. He lives by the logic of anti-Christ: taking instead of giving, pleasure instead of pain, concealment instead of truth, abortion instead of birth, self-idolatry instead of sacrifice. In this sense, such men are not merely immoral — they are anti-Christic archetypes, walking parodies of everything Christ died to sanctify. They do not spill blood to redeem others; they encourage blood to be spilled to preserve their convenience. Where Christ laid down his life to give us life, they end lives to extend their momentary indulgence — and where Christ suffered to restore the covenant, they desecrate others to symbolically destroy what remains of it.
