Second Sight

Does having children increase our happiness? The question answers itself, doesn’t it? Or does it? As I write, the grandchildren are out. The twin five-year-olds are over with their mother from America. How lucky we are in the golden moments. But with that luck come certain penalties: noise, mess, a collapse of household routines. Much of that comes from the fact that our way of life has developed to suit two people just 70 years older than the twins. But it does bring home, and with some force, the very different demands which the parenthood of young children makes.

There have been many studies on whether children contribute to happiness in marriage, and the evidence is mixed. But the broad direction of the results, based on the subjects’ self reports is, I fear, negative. An example comes from Dr Nattavudh Powdthavee of York University. He says: “Social scientists have found almost zero association between having children and happiness. In a recent study of British adults for example it was found that parents and non-parents reported the same levels of life satisfaction. Other studies from Europe and America found that parents report significantly lower levels of satisfaction than people who haven’t had children.”

It is not hard to see why.

Review the lifestyle of a childless couple, each contributing an income and each having a whole personal universe of their career with its fulfilments and social connections. They have the possibility of a quiet, intimate life together, enjoying the material standard of living which their earning power provides. They can have a mutual social life and share, if they choose, in the voluntary good works which their resources make possible.

Contrast this with the parents of a family. For some periods, at least, only one income is available - and over lengthy periods total income is likely to be reduced since one earner can probably make little career progress and may be working part-time. Total up the cost of children in terms of lost earnings and additional expenses and the sum will be calculated not in thousands of pounds but in the difference between a comfortable pension and a straitened old age. There is little quiet in the house from morning to night - and the sound is not invariably that of children’s happy laughter.

The weekends, or the evenings, may well be taken up ferrying children hither and thither. Opportunities for privacy are few and far between. Since children do not have their illnesses collectively but seriatim, it is possible to go throughout an entire winter without have a single day free of at least one child with a temperature.

Nor, at the end of it all, can you be certain that the result will be a happy brood of adults effusive in their thanks for parenting them at such sacrifice. It is more likely that at least some will be much more conscious of what they perceive as your shortcomings. Do not expect gratitude from your children. And do not expect that you can ever divorce yourself emotionally from the troubles of your adult children. You can’t.

In western society, these differing lifestyles are now standing out in sharper contrast. The average age at the birth of the first baby has risen by four or five years and that means that the habits of independent income and unfettered social life have become well established before they are replaced by the spartan regime of motherhood. About 19 per cent of women aged 50 in Britain have eschewed parenthood - almost twice the percentage of the 1990s. Parenthood used to be the default option for marriage, now it is a rational choice of lifestyle.

Of course the concept of happiness is controversial. In a rather superficial sense one might define it as the difference between our expectations and our experience. If we have consciously undertaken the task of procreation with a good understanding of what is involved then the happiness, or perhaps satisfying sense of fulfilment, will follow - even if we have sometimes to experience it through gritted teeth. While I was well aware that the costs and the trials of our largish family lowered our standard of living in certain respects, I was always clear that, if I took my life as a whole, I was ahead of the game. And when this year we were able to catch in one photograph all our 14 grandchildren, aged from five to 24, our deep happiness was very special.

Fortunately I am not alone. At any given moment a parent can be mired in the tribulations of the family - yet never doubt that it is worth it. And our admiration for the David Camerons of this world who have tended a child through the whole length of this vale of tears is unbounded. If he has taught us nothing else he has taught us about unconditional love.

As I argued in this column on March 26, we are already well set on a course which will lead the human race towards extinction. It does not require plague, global warming or nuclear war, just millions of small decisions not to have children. As the psychologist David Gilbert wrote: “Imagine a species that figured out that children don’t make you happy. We have a word for that species: extinct.”

Perhaps the saddest thing is that the Church - the great champion of abundant life - sounds a trumpet which nobody hears. For this generation, and perhaps for generations to come, its endemic preoccupation with sexual sin, and the treacherous behaviour of so many in authority, has rendered its message impotent.

Or am I too pessimistic?

It is over two years since I wrote in general terms about the concept of the natural law (July 4 2008) but some recent correspondence in this paper suggests that there are certain aspects which could profitably be revisited. I have in mind, simply as examples, letters from Simon Reilly and Hugh Dwan (July 30).

Mr Reilly tells us that, being written in the heart of man, natural law is not subject to change and is self-evident. This, as a broad statement, is unexceptionable but, without refinement, it can lead to misunderstanding – and so wrong inferences. While it is certainly true of the major principles such as that the good should be done and evil avoided, that injustice is wrong, that moral principles are universally applicable – and so on, it is not so when judging the application of the more detailed tenets.

Since such tenets are derived from the circumstances of human nature, change is always possible. For example, the human reproductive system evolved to favour frequent pregnancies to cope with high early mortality. Such fertility would now be unsustainable, so natural family planning, which would formerly have been condemned, has become virtuous. Similarly, our relatively recent ability to donate a kidney to someone in need is seen as an act of love and not prohibited “mutilation”, as our earlier understanding would have judged it.

A second factor can be new knowledge. And, in the 19th century – when the microscope corrected our Aristotelean understanding of conception – the moral status of early abortion was changed correspondingly. Nowadays we realise at an increasing depth the interfusion between the psychological and biological elements in the human being. In the light of this knowledge we can see the potential inadequacy of absolute moral dicta based on biological phenomena. We might note, as a minor example of this approach, that one may, in justified cases, deceive but that telling an actual lie is held, “by its very nature”, to be always wrong because it violates the purpose of speech.

This is not to suggest that the inferences which may be drawn from the biological nature of human acts are irrelevant to natural law decisions, but rather that they should be part of the evidence to be weighed rather than the final arbiter.

That such tenets are not always self-evident can be illustrated by many examples. So I just choose some well-known ones.

It was not evident to the Church that everyone had a natural law right to freedom of religious conscience and practice. So Vatican II and the teaching of John XXIII corrected a misapprehension of centuries. And corrected it so effectively that Pope John Paul was able to say, with a straight face, that the Holy See “has always been vigorous in defending freedom of conscience and religious liberty”. I imagine that the odd heretic raised a singed eyebrow at that.

Slavery, which Pope John Paul condemned as intrinsically evil, was condoned throughout most of the Church’s history. And, if I remind you of the long history of the castration of youths for the sake of the glory of God and the Sistine choir, it is only to exemplify how some natural law applications have been far from self-evident.

We are very aware of the outstanding contemporary example of widespread episcopal collusion favouring the interests of the abuser over the rights of the abused. In rightly condemning corrupt individual priests and nuns we may forget that the real scandal lies in the institutionalised blindness to the duty owed to the victims.

Which brings me to Mr Dwan’s reminder that Pope Paul claimed that “no member of the faithful could deny the Church’s competence in her Magisterium to interpret the natural moral law”. Leaving aside what Karl Rahner described as the “many doctrines which were once universally held but have proved to be problematic or erroneous”, we are still left with analysing what is meant by interpreting the natural moral law.

For the Magisterium to elucidate and witness to the natural law and its applications in particular circumstances is of course an invaluable service. But it differs in kind from its authoritative teaching based on revelation and tradition. Since natural law is patent to reason, such interpretations must equally be patent to reason and, like any legal body interpreting a law, the reasons for any conclusions should be given. Of course an inconclusive natural law argument may well be paralleled or supplemented by Revelation or by some other factor to which the Church has privileged access – but this is not, by definition, a discernment of natural law through reason.

A straightforward example is provided by monogamous marriage. While natural law strongly supports the concept, it is accepted that reason could allow polygamy in certain unusual circumstances. Moses was not condemned for permitting it among the Jews, yet Jesus makes it clear that it was not God’s intention for the human race – clarifying the divine will through revelation.

The principles here, if not my examples, are of course related to Aquinas, whose teachings on the natural law have been seminal both in Christian and secular thinking. I would encourage anyone who wishes to look into the question more deeply to start with him and then proceed to the Catechism, in which natural law has several references. It is particularly valuable on the relationship of natural law to the divine law and also on the ease with which sin and habit can cloud our grasp of what the natural law demands. Perhaps the missing element here is that it does not clarify that sin and habit can cloud the vision of institutions as well as individuals.

Lots of opportunity to argue about this one…

Some years ago, when I was receiving what seemed to me alarmingly large sums of money for addressing business conferences and the like, I used to teach rhetoric. We may first think of rhetoric as an art (which it is), but it is also a science, in the sense that it has procedures and techniques which can be evidenced empirically. It has been studied from at least the time of the ancient Greeks. Even Aristotle wrote a (rather tedious) book on it.

The most accessible example is “Friends, Romans, countrymen” from Act III of Julius Caesar. Ironically, we do not know whether Shakespeare himself ever experienced those heady moments of holding and controlling the feelings of a large audience. If not, it was only his genius which enabled him to exemplify rhetoric so brilliantly.

Mark Antony is addressing a lynch mob which is passionately against the assassinated Caesar. And that key first line forces them to recognise that he is one with them. We do not dislike “people like us”; it’s written in our genes. But before they can analyse that, he counters their suspicions by assuring them that he is not going to praise that vile Caesar. Nor, they discover quickly, is he going to attack their hero, Brutus. On the contrary, Brutus is an honourable man.

In fact he is so honourable that Antony is called upon to mention this several times. But each time he couples it with a fact which is incompatible with the claim of an honourable man. The compliment becomes a condemnation. Beware when your opponent assures his respect for your good faith.

But since I can only exemplify, I move on to the point where Antony is overcome by his depth of feeling: “Bear with me; my heart is in the coffin there with Caesar, and I must pause till it come back to me.” You can almost hear the crowd gulping in emotional sympathy, just as we do when we hear an appeal from a parent on the television. And on some occasions it comes from the very parent who has done the dirty deed. Antony times it to perfection. During the space he has created with his crocodile tears the crowd begins to wonder whether he has a point.

And then he strikes. He reveals that he holds Caesar’s will in his hand, but he does not intend to read it although it is so generous to them that they would kiss Caesar’s wounds in gratitude if they heard it. And predictably they insist, they implore, they demand that he should do so. But to refuse to read the will because its generosity might inflame them is high-level provocation, and Antony sustains it.

Instead, he asks their permission (for he is of course no more than their servant) to show them the body of Caesar, wound by wound. “If you have tears prepare to shed them now.” An appropriate visual aid can be invaluable for dramatic and persuasive effect. I always look for an opportunity to use one, but I rarely have to hand a bloodstained corpse. No wonder he is able to say: “O, now you weep, and I perceive you feel the dint of pity.”

The crowd is so enraged it is on the point of riot. They have even forgotten the existence of the will. But Antony wants a rebellion, not an episode of temporary vandalism. He must push the message fully home. He reads them the will and the public benefits it contains. And the mob rushes off intent on destruction. While Antony, presumably with a little self satisfied dimple in his cheek, says: “Now let it work; mischief, thou art afoot.”

Was Mark Antony insincere? At a deeper level we have no reason to doubt his love for Caesar, and his determination that his treacherous assassins should be punished. And if he sees that a resulting coup will create a new regime in which he will be a leading participant, that is hardly surprising.

But the speech itself is a brilliant exercise in persuasive communication; and his last line would show that, even if it were not obvious from the context. And yet he has the nerve to say: “I am no orator as Brutus is; but, as you know me all, a plain, blunt man.” What a decent chap! No wonder he gets later to rule Egypt from Cleopatra’s bed – even if the long-term outcome proved unsatisfactory.

We have at least two considerations to reflect on here. The first is to consider whether good rhetoric is intrinsically dishonest. And that analysis might start by investigating the elements of rhetoric which most of us use naturally.

If you have ever smiled at someone in order to get good service, that’s rhetoric. If you have ever said “thank you” when you didn’t mean it, that’s rhetoric. If you have ever chosen your words, or the order of your words, to give a specific impact to your communication, that’s rhetoric. And it can prove dangerous when your public remark is belied by your private views – as many politicians have had cause to discover. As did Tony Hayward, chief executive of BP, when he unwarily said: “I want my life back.”

The second is to be on guard against the rhetoric we hear – from the political broadcast to a Science and Faith column to a papal statement. Again, I would not suggest the Pope was ever insincere, but his addresses are constructed to give a particular effect, and we need to know how our susceptibilities are being addressed. I bear in mind that his hero, Socrates, continually championed the truth while using the most skilful rhetoric with which to bolster his, often doubtful, arguments.

Is rhetoric simply a form of manipulation? Is it the duty of the Christian always to speak plainly, and from the heart? And how would our social life change if that were so?

Bless me, readers, for I have sinned. For some time now I have been aware of an important moral question – which could disturb a number of people. In fact it disturbed me, although for reasons of age it has no practical consequences. But I wanted to avoid examining the details; I was, as Cardinal Ratzinger (and St Paul) would say, not listening to the voice of God. I knew that, if I listened, I should have to write. And so, belatedly, I do – and at the urging of a regular Second Sight Blog contributor.

We all know that a large proportion of Catholic laity, and indeed clergy, reject or at least have serious doubts about the Church’s unqualified condemnation of contraception. I don’t want to discuss that question but I do want to examine the different types of contraception which might be used. I am speaking primarily about the long-term pill, the intrauterine device (IUD) and barrier contraceptives. I will give you a reference to more detailed information below. But here I summarise.

I hold, but will not argue in detail here, that, at conception a new and separate human being is formed. It contains full DNA instructions from its parents, and proceeds to develop towards maturity according to these instructions. The development is gradual and continuous: no particular incident, such as the implantation of the conceptus in the womb, is more than just a necessary stage in the process. This is in fact the Church’s understanding, but I would defend it independently of ecclesiastical fiat.

When the Pill was introduced in the early 1960s it contained two hormones: oestrogen and progesterone. It was intended to be, and was seen as, a reliable method of preventing ovulation. But it proved to have a number of side effects, and prospective side effects – and this led to a modification of the formula in the direction of lessening the oestrogen. And nowadays we also have the progesterone-only pill. Such a pill can work by inhibiting ovulation, or by preventing conception by changing the rate of motility, in both directions, in the fallopian tube. These are contraceptive effects. But its fail-safe effect is abortifacient. It prevents the conceptus from implanting in the womb, and thus it is passed, unnoticed, with the next period. The statistical evidence is that, for a sexually active woman, a live conceptus would be aborted on two occasions over 15 years with the oestrogen/progesterone pill, and one abortion a year with a progesterone-only pill.

The IUD, once the early side effects had been controlled, became – on the face of it – the perfect contraceptive. It could remain inserted for long periods of time, but could be quickly and conveniently removed. I won’t detail the types here, but it operates as a contraceptive by changing motility in the fallopian tube and has a spermicidal effect. But its major effect (through its structure which in some types is enhanced through hormones) is to make the lining of the womb hostile to any further foreign body. Quite simply, it causes an abortion by preventing the conceptus from implantation, and so developing further.

It is not my business to tell anyone how to behave but I would suggest that it is hard to speak of a formed conscience without studying this question. I would recommend starting with a major document to which a blog contributor directed me. And, for obvious reasons, I would value any comments on my technical description, and the inferences I draw from this – particularly from those who are experts in either or both aspects.

It may seem strange to list alternatives in an area which is under an interdict, but in the interest, at least, of lessening evil I should do so. Natural family planning, which is not a contraceptive but a contraceptive procedure, has strangely mutated in the Church’s eyes from vice to virtue; it must come first. I am well aware of its good and bad psychological side effects for some, and its impracticability in certain marital circumstances. It could also be an irresponsible, and therefore unloving, option for some.

Barrier contraceptives, if not infallible, are pretty reliable in principle – and failures do not cause abortions. Then there is permanent sterilisation for either sex. On the horizon is the male pill, which operates by removing a protein needed for the seed to become fertile. It has no abortifacient properties, and, as yet, no side effects are apparent. But it is not yet thoroughly tested and is unlikely to be available for three years or more. Recent work has discovered a key gene for sperm production which has remained unchanged for 600 million years, and is present in virtually all animals. This may prove another route.

None of these latter methods will be acceptable to the Church for the usual reasons. Nevertheless, methods of family limitation are common throughout Catholic populations. We can, at least, avoid – and teach others to avoid – those which work by abortion.

Nor do I forget that moral theologians were happy when the direct purpose of the Pill was to regularise cycles, etc. In such cases the suspension of ovulation was seen as an acceptable, if unwanted, side effect. (Although I understand that there was a sharp increase in women requesting treatment for such conditions following Humanae Vitae. I wonder why.) But the intended effect and the side effect must be judged as proportionate. Is the risk of abortion too great to justify the therapeutic usage of the Pill? That question needs more discussion.

I would like to thank several blog contributors whose thoughts and expertise have helped this column to be a co-operative feature.

(This is a copy of the link above for those who prefer to paste into a browser: http://www.dialoguedynamics.com/content/learning-forum/interviews-and-articles/article/mons-jacques-suaudeau-on-the-link)

Imagine that you are watching a short video clip in which you are asked to count how many times a particular incident occurs. Easy enough. But now imagine that at one point someone in a gorilla suit walks across the screen and looks you straight in the eye. Would you notice it? Apparently around half the watchers don’t. This exercise has been carried out dozens of times, using people of different psychological profiles, and the results are always approximately the same.

The reason lies in our faculty for filtering out information which may distract us from the task in hand - in this case focusing on the incidents that have to be counted. It is easy to recognise the value of this focusing faculty. Many years ago, when the children were babies, I developed the capacity to sleep straight through their noises at night. On the grounds of my inability to breastfeed I took the view that this was their mother’s work. Typical man, you might say. But when my wife had to be away for a few days, my hearing became so acute that I could be woken by the slightest undue noise from the nursery.
So we are reminded that all our experiences are ultimately subjective. What we notice, what we remember: what we decide is mediated to us through various filters. We may have the impression that we are looking at reality but in truth we are only looking at what our mind, tutored by our innate disposition, our lifetime experiences and our chosen focuses is able to recognise.

We know about some of the irrational influences which affect us. For example, I am aware that we tend to attribute virtue to physically attractive people. But how many juries, who are less likely to convict an attractive person, and to award them higher damages, are aware of the injustice they perpetrate? And they are unlikely to be aware of how easy it is for a police interrogator to turn a witness’s uncertain and tentative evidence into sworn certainty (and genuinely experienced as such) by the time they reach the box.

What is your attitude towards money? You may range from keeping good reserves towards a rainy day to spending the maximum (or more) as soon as you hear the coins clink. You may think that your approach is rational and well thought-out. But it could depend on whether your are inclined to optimism or pessimism, or on earlier experiences - particularly as a child. And your spouse may take a different view: does that make for balance or antagonism?

No doubt many readers will have interviewed candidates for a job. How likely are you to make a good judgment of your applicant’s success? We must suppose it will be reasonably sound, or why interview? In fact on a scale from zero (completely random) to 10 (always right), the average correct judgment was between one and two.

There is strong evidence that most interview decisions are made within the first five minutes, and any contrary evidence is, like the gorilla, simply ignored. You will see tall people as more authoritative (and this can be effective throughout a whole career). A BBC accent will be seen as a sign of competence in one culture, and as a sign of effete impracticality in another. In many areas of industry a beard can be a problem; they will use your brains but the boardroom is a step too far for such eccentricity. The biggest quality to bring as a candidate is to be likeable to the interviewer. Provided that you have the essential qualifications that will be the decisive factor.
Of course, the interviewers may have been rather thick. But Professor Eysenk persuaded the matron at a London teaching hospital to give up interviewing, and to select senior nurses simply on paper evidence of the necessary (high) qualifications and proven work record. Her selection accuracy went up substantially. Overwhelming evidence shows that selection interviews are actually counterproductive. Of course no one believes that, but it remains true.

How do you judge risk? If I asked you to rate the safety of say bicycling, flying, walking, car, or train in order of deaths per mile travelled you might well get the order right. But you might not know that walking and cycling are about the same risk (about a third of the risk of motorcycling). The car risk is less than a tenth of the cycling risk but 25 times the risk of the train; and the air risk is so low that it practically falls off the chart. We are likely to be influenced by publicity given to big incidents, and certainly by our own experience or that of people close to us. Just driving past an accident, ambulance and all, may make us more careful. But none of this affects the actual probabilities. I break off at this point to nip out to visit my wife in hospital, remembering that, measured by deaths, hospital beds are a dangerous environment.

And I am back, reflecting on the dangers of unconscious factors in our decisions. I could have filled several columns with further, well-investigated, examples. I believe profoundly in free will but how can I judge that I am free in any specific decision? As it happens I have kept records of such studies over some 20 years, and wrote a book largely devoted to them. So it is likely that I know more about the effects of our unconscious on our freedom than most people have had the opportunity to study. And I am still foxed.

What effect does this have on our quest of virtue or for our capacity for sin? How well trained are our spiritual adviser or our confessors in such matters? Share your ideas with us.

In a recent column (June 4) and a feature article (May 28) I discussed two remarkable scientific advances: the creation of synthetic life and the unwrapping of the Neanderthal genome. Is it too tempting to look at the two together and ask whether it would be possible to reconstruct a synthetic Neanderthal?

But before I come to that we will benefit from looking at some of the reflections on synthetic life from people of standing, who have now had a little time to contemplate what has happened.

Have we really mastered the creation of artificial life? This first example required the injection of synthetically built DNA into a natural bacterium from which the native DNA had been removed. So the result was a hybrid of natural and synthetic elements. But the second and subsequent generations were  a response to the synthetic DNA’s instructions. So it was wholly synthetic but had required a “live” ancestor.

Opinions vary but I would hold that to create artificial life all the elements must have been combined from scratch. But, either way, no philosophical or religious difficulty is involved, provided that we are not considering intelligent life. Scientists may or may not succeed, but that is another question. Understanding the nature of God’s creative act is above my pay grade (and yours); we only know that it is infinitely different from any human activity. We have to make do with the thin milk of metaphor - and with never forgetting the limitations of that.

Back to making our Neanderthal. I don’t think we should hold our breath awaiting the event. It would be an immensely complex task, with no obvious commercial advantage. But scientists will try - there is no stopping their curiosity. Currently we only have 60 per cent of the Neanderthal genome to work from and even if that percentage increased we would have to combine it with human cells. The resulting hybrid might turn out to be a very strange creature. Undoubtedly it would be condemned as an unlawful breach of the dignity of human nature - but the theological status of the living result would be interesting to discern.

Presumably our reconstructed Neanderthal blastocyst would be implanted in a human womb and would grow up in a human culture. Once born we would be immediately aware of his stocky frame and heavy brow ridges. And, given that the later Neanderthals may well have adapted their own culture through imitating their human cousins, it might be difficult to distinguish innate characteristics from learned ones.

We could expect him to be able to master the simple language needed for cooperative activity, but we do not know how far he could get beyond that. His grasp of abstract or symbolic ideas might remain elementary. And he might be deficient in ingenuity or capacity to explore new ideas. He could no doubt be steered away from cannibalism, to which some of his brothers appear to have been inclined. But we would expect him to value the dead and to look to an afterlife. In many ways he would resemble early modern humans, but lacking the capacity for adaptation to new circumstances which was the key to our continuing development. These speculations are based on characteristics which are inferred from fossil remains, and would explain why Neanderthals made slower progress than early man.

A mite more practical than developing a Neanderthal would be to unearth more recent DNA - say Charles Darwin, or Shakespeare. And to use that to produce a twin sibling of identical genius. But perhaps on a shorter horizon, and with no ethical problems, we might succeed in creating woolly mammoth by using an enucleated elephant’s egg.

These bizarre and uncertain possibilities remind us that the truly important fact here is the skill which is being developed in the deliberate creation of new forms of life, and to do so through the copying of complete or partial DNA which can be used to change characteristics across species. People have been rightly concerned about genetically modified crops, but I think there is a growing understanding that these can solve certain problems under certain conditions - although a high degree of care required. But it is a further step to move from developing a better form of, say, wheat to developing an artificial new species. A further step again is required when the move is into the animal kingdom, and a huge jump when it comes to man.

A great deal of concern has been expressed about the danger of these gene manipulations escaping into the outside world. Various precautions ensuring that the organisms are built with fail-safe characteristics have been considered. But there is huge money in developing the techniques and plenty of regimes happy to ignore international law. While it is relatively difficult to develop a nuclear bomb in private, it is easy to conceal work on the development of synthetic life when it is performed in a small laboratory. Even the information published so far is sufficient to help scientists down a track which has now been proved feasible.

If we add to that the capacity for this new life to breed at a geometric rate, and to evolve through mutations into forms we cannot visualise now, the hazards are very great indeed.

You might like to review some of these opinions at Edge.org . Track down to “The Reality Club” May 10 , where you will also read the remark by Freeman Dyson, the veteran distinguished physicist: “I feel sure of only one conclusion. The ability to design and create new forms of life marks a turning-point in the history of our species and our planet.”

You may have some views on whetherthe genetic modification of our species would be a great advance or a great disaster.

A couple of generations ago, when the average decent member of the British public looked for reasons of substance rather than simple convenience before electing for abortion, the danger to the mother’s life was often cited. We hear of this much more rarely now - perhaps because the question has been settled, or perhaps because better medical techniques have so often saved the day.

But it is back again: Sister Margaret Mary McBride, who sits on the ethics board of a hospital in the United States, is in trouble for approving the abortion of an 11 week unborn child to save the mother’s life. While she was, under canon law, automatically excommunicated, her bishop has emphasised his disapproval by making the excommunication public.

I make no judgment of Sister McBride’s good faith or religious devotion; I make no judgment whether the bishop was right to raise the stakes. I understand that they are both people of high reputation. My only concern is to look at the principles.

And the bare principles are straightforward. Both mother and child are human beings with an equal right to life. A heroic mother might choose to sacrifice her life to save her baby but the baby cannot make such a choice. Thus, at this level, it is open and shut.

The situation is different when the death of the unborn child is an unwanted side effect. This might occur when the pregnancy takes root in the fallopian tube. It would be legitimate to remove the tube even though the baby within cannot survive. Provided that the intention is to heal the mother and that the child’s death is not the means of this healing, and provided that the outcome is proportionate, then the act of removal is justified.

We must assume that in the McBride case the continuation of the pregnancy is sincerely believed to be fatal to the mother (accepting that medical prognoses are often fallible) and that the removal of the baby will give the mother a reasonable prospect of survival. So the issue of proportion is satisfied.

But the main condition is not. The action to be taken is not the removal of a diseased organ (eg, a fallopian tube) but the removal of the baby, thereby killing it. This is directly to sacrifice the baby’s life for the saving of the mother.

To look for arguments against this rigorous position I would go to trustworthy, lay Catholic authority. I stipulate “lay” because every cleric is bound by oath to uphold the orthodox position, and so cannot help us. Who better than Professor Tina Beattie of Roehampton niversity, who is often in the public eye on gender questions concerning the Church? And immediately I am concerned.

In her article in The Tablet (June 5) I read first that the Church’s attitude has its roots “in the belief that the moral value of an action lies in its intention”. Not so. Good intention is necessary but it is not sufficient. The action itself must not be objectively evil. She continues by saying that many would think the situation under consideration is too complex for formulaic judgments. But what matters here is not whether the judgment is formulaic (presumably she means “definite”) but whether it is correct and applies in a given context.

She then expresses surprise that a Church which has behaved so incompetently over the sex abuse question can be so decisive over abortion. Such ad hominem arguments have their place in emotional rhetoric but not in discussion by an academic. Nor, even here, does she notice that killing a child in the womb is a substantially worse abuse than paedophilia.

She puts emphasis on the change in the Church’s attitude on early and late abortion. But she fails to mention that this is a response to a new and fuller scientific understanding of the process of conception. Aristotle’s view on ensoulment, based on a misunderstanding of conception and genetic development, was in need of updating after 2,500 years. Old rulings based on faulty facts are not relevant.

More disturbingly, she creates her own rules for designating personhood and, by implication, human rights. She regards personhood as something which is gradually acquired and dependent on relationship: “It is hard to see how any embryo can be deemed a person before even the mother enters into a rudimentary relationship with it.” Not only is this criterion gratuitous, it is extremely dangerous. In too many historical incidents those in power (in this case the mother and the doctors) have defined humanity in terms of their own priorities. Of course Professor Beattie is in good faith here - which is why my blood runs cold, for unjust discrimination can start with the best intentions.

There are a few theological experts in this area who argue that an embryo is not ensouled for the few days during which a single conceptus can clone into twins, but that is not an issue at 11 weeks. More interesting, I think, is whether the status of the act is altered by the fact that, if the mother dies, the foetus will die anyhow. Or whether, as is possible in some cases, the foetus can be extracted from its abnormal siting in the fallopian tube - allowing the tube to be restored to its normal capacity. The foetus cannot survive whether or not the tube is removed.

My concern here is that it is emotionally tempting to side with the known, loved and needed mother rather than the invisible foetus. A person of standing and influence could well provide a rationale for unwary Catholics and accusations of inconsistency from our opponents. Choosing to grade human beings and so differentiate their rights is a step toward the abyss.

www.secondsightblog.com looks forward to your comments.

So we have a new set of cousins: the Neanderthals. We were already aware of a distant relationship - although they were never our direct forebears - because we shared a common ancestor some half a million years ago. But what we have discovered is a much closer similarity in our genetic codes, and strong evidence that interbreeding with humans took place. So once again we must look at what constitutes a being with an immortal soul, and whether Neanderthals qualify.

The first archaeological discovery was made in 1829, although it was then assumed to be from a primitive human ancestor. Fossils found in the German Neander valley some years later were eventually identified as a distinct species, homo neandertalensis. First signs of the species seem to have appeared over 400,000 years ago, complete characteristics were present 130,000 years ago and it survived until about 30,000 years ago. Its last community is thought to have been at Gibraltar - a fine place to see out such a history. We have only been around for less than 200,000 years - mere babes by comparison.

The signs of interbreeding (1 per cent to 4 per cent of the human genome) may not be of functional significance, but it demonstrates that we were so closely linked that we could breed fertile children together. This is a rule of thumb indication of a shared species. The interbreeding dates from about 60,000 years ago — around the time that we migrated from Africa into the Neanderthal heartland, which ranged from Europe to southern Siberia. Humans with pure African ancestry do not have Neanderthal genes.

But in general there seems to have been little mixing between Neanderthals and modern humans, and there are plenty of competing ideas about why they died out. These suggest the possibility that they were much weakened by frequent glacial climate change, that they had larger energy needs, they were ill-suited to forming diverse societies, that they simply weren’t so sophisticated and ingenious. But since there were different Neanderthal populations, spread wide geographically, there may well have been more than one cause.

In fact the stocky Neanderthal body was well set up for cold weather, and the wide spread of territory they covered suggest that they were good at adapting to different environments. Nor do we have to assume a slow, lumbering gait, although I would imagine that ballroom dancing would not have been a forté.

It is difficult to grade intelligence - if only because evolution would favour its development. And, should we use brain size as a measure, the Neanderthals, with slightly larger brains, would score more highly than modern humans. But in assessing true human characteristics it is the kind rather than the level of intelligence which counts. The ability to work with abstract concepts, or the existence of a mind which can introspect, reason and make free judgments are all signs of the immaterial qualities we would associate with the spiritual soul - even if they operated at a lower level.

Certainly they manufactured tools and weapons which were quite sophisticated for the time. We know that some of the lower animals, and some birds, are skilful toolmakers, but these are of a different order of inventiveness. So much so that it has been suggested that the Neanderthal techniques were copied from their modern human neighbours. However, their capacity to hunt large herd animals, requiring substantial courage and co-ordination, seems to have been very high. They could control fire and build complex shelters.

Some claim that objects buried with bodies were grave goods - witnessing to a belief in immortality; other have claimed that these were just incidental trash, and that burial was simply a way of disposing of a rotting corpse. There is always room for another explanation. But perhaps the recent discovery, in territory only used by Neanderthals, of perforated and painted sea shells, personal jewellery and containers for pigment used for skin painting is more difficult to explain away. As Professor Zilhao (Bristol University) put it: “This discovery, along with research on the rock strata at other cave sites, has huge implications for how we view the European Neanderthals… The differences between Neanderthals and modern humans may be much less than had been previously thought…”

In fact the use of symbolic communication suggests, some would say - implies - speech. And the substantial cooperation required for large-scale hunting or the communication of tool making skills would seem to require at least a simple language. Interestingly, very recent work has discovered that the mutations on the “language gene” FOXP2 which are not present in the chimpanzee and were thought to be unique to humans, are now known to be present in the Neanderthal. They appear, at least, to have the genes to speak.

The work on the Neanderthal genome, published in May, shows that the variations in proteins compared with ours are remarkably few - in fact 160 times fewer than the differences between man and chimpanzee. I know that the significance of this is hard to grasp for us who are not experts in this field so I use the summary given by Professor Hannon (Cold Spring Harbor Laboratory), who did this part of the work: “The news, so far, is not about how we differ from Neanderthals, but how we are so nearly identical, in terms of proteins.”

Everything which I have described is well backed by plausible evidence, but there is plenty of detail disagreement and speculation. If I speculate that we know of a sub-species of homo sapiens, who was intelligent, capable of abstract thought, revered its dead, and could communicate through language, then I speculate that we have someone with an immortal soul. What do you think?

My column this week could, for some of you, be one of the most useful things you have read for a long time. Not for all of you, inevitably, because some will know about it already, and others will - for a variety of reasons do nothing about it. I am going to write about the scientific basis of meditation and what it can do for those who choose to take it to heart.

For most of us, meditation suggests mystical Christian prayer, or Buddhist contemplation, or - for the right generation - the Beatles and Maharishi Mahesh Yogi. But, for the moment, put all that aside. Think instead of spending some 20 minutes in deep relaxation. And by deep, I mean very deep indeed. The effect will be a great calming of the spirit and tranquillity, a lowering of blood pressure, and, should you suffer from it, a marked relief of depression.

Deep relaxation is a skill. It is in theory accessible to everybody but it takes about a week of regular practice to acquire the rudiments. The skill then continues to deepen until you can call it to your aid instantaneously. As a trivial example, were you to feel my muscles in the dentist’s chair, you would find them completely relaxed, and my capacity for pain reduced to a minimum.

First, an exercise. Clench your fist as tight as you can - so tightly that it shakes with the pressure, Then relax it slowly, attending the growing feeling of relaxation. At the end you will find your fingers to be floppy but - more importantly - you have learned what relaxation feels like. Got the basic idea?

Now lie, or sit down comfortably, and relax every muscle in your body. Follow a sequence: hands, arms, shoulders, neck, face, chest, stomach, buttocks, legs and feet. Clench each muscle and then feel it slowly relax. Occasionally check back to see if earlier muscles have tightened. You will not find it easy and only practice will help you into a state you may never have experienced before A fully relaxed state uses so little energy that breathing becomes lighter and almost seems to cease.

Lie there, relaxed - perhaps listening to some tranquil music - for about 20 minutes. And then bring yourself to - but slowly; and get back to the trials of real life.

What is happening inside your brain? Theta waves associated with deep relaxation increase, and so do alpha waves, which tend to increase when the brain withdraws from intentional or challenging tasks. Beta waves which are needed for such tasks are few, and so are delta waves. Delta waves are associated with sleep - which is a quite different state from deep relaxation. But you don’t need to remember any of that. I put it in just to show that deep relaxation is a measurable state of the brain, induced from the relaxation of the body. You need to be neither holy nor clever to learn how to use it.

My original exploration of the subject started many years ago because the evidence showed that two separated periods of 20 minutes deep relaxation had a measurable and continuing effect on blood pressure. That investment of daily time has yielded high returns in so many ways.

Further practice develops further uses. I can now use “triggers”. I am able to deepen my relaxation throughout my body in the midst of ordinary life, simply by relaxing a hand. The number of occasions when this has checked an irritable remark or an imprudent decision is countless - although my wife would tell you that I still have some way to go. This brief, instant relaxation is also useful for, say, a mother of young children for whom five quiet minutes is a luxury.

Deep relaxation puts the brain into a highly suggestible state. And it becomes possible to use it for self-hypnotism - by definition this is conscious and controlled. It can be a valuable way of changing an unsatisfactory attitude of mind simply through autosuggestion. Don’t expect sudden conversion: this is not magic but just an effective way of moving the mind into constructive directions.

Now that I have demystified this neurological phenomenon, let me replace some of the mystery. I suggested that one might use music as a background. This helps to clear the mind and checks thought processes so that intellectual focus is curbed. But many people prefer to use a mantra - recited throughout the process. Many will know the Tibetan Buddhist mantra, om mani padme hum. No exact translation exists, but it relates to the virtues of withdrawing from self-centeredness.

I prefer one which is more overtly Christian. Maranatha (”Our Lord has come”) is popular; but I favour Julian of Norwich’s “All manner of thyng shall be wele”. It encompasses the idea of Christian peace and confidence. But it’s a personal choice.

More recently I have started to train myself to a further stage where I eschew mantras and simply place myself in the presence of God. I regard thought of divine attributes as a distraction since any human understanding diminishes rather than embellishes. Nor, of course, does any prayer of petition apply, since the only relevant reaction is open-ended wonder. I am not very good at this yet, but, as I have suggested, much practice is required at every stage.

My description of deep relaxation (and its use in prayer) has been short and personal. The professional audiotape I published several years ago was widely used, but is no longer available. However, secular accounts of deep relaxation are available in good bookshops for further study. I look forward to comments on www.secondsightblog.com from your experience - especially with regard to its use in prayer.

It did not take the Hitchens-Dawkins suggestion that the Pope should be clapped in irons on his arrival in Britain to remind us that the secular humanist contingent should be treated as a group of eccentrics whom we should welcome as adding to the general variety of life. Their intellectual basis is, as Jeremy Bentham said in another context, such “nonsense on stilts”that we would assume that they were indulging in some arch sport were it not for their evident earnestness.

In any dialogue I like to open up with the suggestion that they have no sense of morality. This of course is a feint: they tend to have a very strong sense of morality - which they use fulsomely to praise their own virtues and to condemn the vices introduced by religion. So the next question is to ask them to explain the basis of their moral sense. Naturally they have a ready answer: evolution.

This approach takes the general form that human beings, like a number of lower species, can only prosper through a willingness to co-operate. While the basis is to ensure the survival of genes in the close and extended family it also applies in a general way to our whole community. And the rivalry between competing communities (war) is a negative support for this whole concept of evolved altruism.

The argument is attractive if only because we have good reason to judge it to be broadly true. Its only drawback is that is does not address the question of moral sense. To behave “virtuously” at the behest of our evolved genes is no more a matter of morality than any other genetic effect. If it so happens that I have inherited a gene which leads me to slaughter everyone with red hair, I can hardly be blamed for that. And the same can be said for other influences - perhaps poor upbringing or peer pressure - which I have received. While a myriad of external factors may contribute causally to my behaviour (and does), these cannot be the whole story if it is to explain moral sense.

An extension of this thinking is often proposed as the reason for the evolution of religion. Historically and currently (see Northern Ireland) religion has identified the group to which we owe altruism versus the groups we are right to oppose. But, at least as importantly, religion is a way of codifying societal values and enforcing them with sanctions which transcend the secular.

But recent work (Pyysiainen and Hauser, Cell Press 2010, February 9) suggests that “we evolved moral intuitions about norm-consistent, and inconsistent actions, and thus, intuitive judgments of right and wrong”. Religion would then be a by-product of this, enabling codifying and enforcement. Since Catholics have always held that the sense that the good ought to be done and the evil avoided is natural to rational man, who also possesses a native ability to recognise the fundamental content of morality (natural law), this does not come as a surprise.

The concept of a “moral intuition”, or as it is put elsewhere “pre-existing cognitive function”, has no useful meaning. So, in the interests of charity, we must offer what help we can. And to do so we must work in terms to which the scientific mind can relate.

My starting assumption is that we all share a moral sense, and so are able to approve or disapprove of actions either of ours or of others. Those who do not claim this are not our concern. (It would save confusion if, having denied its existence, they dropped any claim to moral judgment.)

We must then ask what characteristics would be necessary provide a rational basis for moral sense. In this I follow, as an example, a subatomic physicist whose equation tells him that a hitherto unknown particle is required. His first task is to designate what characteristics it must have to solve the equation.

In the case of moral judgment the first requirement is freedom of will. Without freedom, approval or otherwise is otiose. This does not mean that we are not strongly influenced, and in some cases psychologically compelled, to choose a course of action but that we are in at least some cases free to make a choice, and therefore to take responsibility. Freedom is a difficult concept for the scientific secularist because it denotes uncaused activity; and science has no interstice to fit that.

And if there is a choice there must be a chooser. While this might seem obvious, many senior neurologists hold the view that we have just a biological brain, with a corresponding body, and nothing more. The term “self” is just a convenient way of expressing how our wholly natural brains think. It is not quite clear to me who or what it is which is able to make a judgment that there is no self, since there is presumably no self to do so. But we can safely leave our humanist friends to explain that.

The remaining characteristic is the provision of a reason why we should follow our sense of moral obligation in those cases when to do so is clearly against our own interests. Since this cannot be wholly caused, directly or indirectly, without losing the character of being moral, our recognition of the good, and our obligation to follow it, must originate from outside ourselves.

While a further analysis would lead one towards the concept of love and a transcendent God whose nature is goodness, it is usually enough to leave the secular humanist with the simple realisation that his fundamental position contains an inherent contradiction. His claimed devotion to truth should lead him towards revision. But don’t hold your breath.