"Yes, a lot," said Theresa. She glanced at Don. "What do you think? Should we ask him?"

Don said, "Go for it."

I gave them an interrogative glance. Theresa asked, "Professor T, we have a different kind of question. Do you mind taking off your professor hat and putting on your older-Christian-mentor hat?"

"I don't mind," I said, "but are any other students waiting for me?"

Don glanced into the hallway. "Nope."

"Then go ahead. What's on your minds?"

"Elections are coming up," Theresa said.

"So I've noticed."

"Some of the choices are easy," she said, "but some are really hard."

"You know I can't —"

Don finished my sentence for me. "— tell us who to vote for. Of course not. We wouldn't ask you to. But maybe you can help us think through a dilemma."

"Maybe. What's the dilemma?"

"Well," said Don, "none of the candidates are perfect."

I grinned. "Has there ever been a perfect candidate?"

"So what do we do?" he asked.

"If you can't find a perfect candidate, vote for the least imperfect."

Theresa broke in. "Don't you mean the least evil?"

"It could come to that."

"But Professor Theophilus," she said, "you've always taught that it's wrong to do evil that good might result."

"I have. It's wrong to will evil either as an end, or as a means to an end."

"Then I'm confused."

"Which issues are confusing you?"

"They all involve abortion."

"But that's not confusing, is it? Abortion is intrinsically evil."

"We know that," said Theresa. "No Christian can ever support the deliberate taking of innocent human life."

She glanced at Don, who grinned and said "Reesi and I first met each other in a pro-life group."

"The hard part is when other issues get mixed in," Theresa said.

"I'm not sure I follow you."

"Take my home state, Prof," said Don. "I'll be casting an absentee ballot. Two candidates are competing for a seat in the U.S. Senate. One of them supports abortion, and I know I can never support that. But here's the hard part: Although the other guy opposes abortion, he holds positions on certain issues that I also consider seriously wrong. So no matter which candidate I vote for, I'm voting for something evil."

"Now I understand," I said, "but you're overlooking an important distinction," I said.

"What kind of distinctions?" asked Theresa.

"Let's say that candidate X and candidate Y both hold certain immoral positions, but candidate X is worse. If you vote for candidate Y because of his immoral positions, then you're intentionally cooperating with evil. That's called 'formal' cooperation. Formal cooperation is always wrong. Are you with me so far?"

"Yes," said Theresa. "What you've just said seems pretty obvious."

I went on, "But suppose you vote for candidate Y for a different reason. You don't do it to enable him to do bad things, but to prevent candidate X from taking office and doing even worse things. In that case you're not formally cooperating with evil."

"But you're sort of cooperating," said Don.

"It's true that the effect of your action is to make it more likely for candidate Y to take office, where he can do wrong," I said. "That's called 'material' cooperation. But in material cooperation, enabling him to do wrong isn't your intention. Your intention is to keep the candidate X from taking office where he can commit even graver wrong."

"I don't see why material cooperation isn't wrong too," said Don.

"Try an easier example. Suppose you're a teller in a bank. A robber grabs a customer, holds a gun to the customer's head, and says 'Unless you give me all the money in your drawer, I'll blow his brains out.' What should you do?"

"Give him all the money in my drawer," said Theresa.

"Don?"

"I agree."

"So do I," I said, "but think about it. That's material cooperation too, isn't it? Giving the thief the cash has the effect of enabling him to commit theft, but that's not your intention. You're not trying to help him do wrong, either as a goal or as a means to some other goal. Your intention is merely to keep him from committing the even graver wrong of murder."

"I get it," said Theresa. "You don't share in the guilt of stealing by giving him the money, because you're not trying to help him steal. And you ought to give it to him, because otherwise something even worse would happen."

"Right," I said, "and it's just like that when you vote for candidate Y. You don't share in the guilt of the wrong things he wants to do when you vote for him —"

Don took the cue. "Because you're not trying to help him to do them."

"And you ought to vote for him —"

"Because if the other guy wins, he'd try to do something worse."

"Right," I said.

Theresa was still troubled. "I understand, but doesn't that force me to decide what counts as 'something worse'?"

"It does," I agreed. "But that may not be as difficult as you think. Don, didn't you say that in your home state candidate X supports abortion?"

"Yes."

"So it would be wrong to vote for him unless candidate Y supported something even worse than abortion, and you voted for candidate X just to stop him."

"I see that."

"So is that the case? In your home state, does candidate Y support something even worse than abortion?"

"No, he doesn't support anything that bad," said Don. "My quarrel with him was about welfare policies. I guess the choice in my home state election isn't as tough as I thought it was. Thanks."

He made as if to get up, but Theresa wasn't finished.

"But something might be worse than abortion," said Theresa, "couldn't it?"

"Like what?" I asked.

Theresa thought for a moment. "Like an unjust war? There's a war going on right now."

"Do you think the war is unjust?" I asked.

"I don't think it's unjust, but some of our friends do. Besides, some wars really are unjust."

I nodded. "Through history, I'd say most wars have been unjust."

"Do you think this one is?"

"No," I said. "I think it's just."

"Just for purposes of argument," she persisted, "suppose candidate X supported abortion, and candidate Y opposed abortion but supported a war that was unjust. Like some of our friends think this one is."

"Okay," I said, "I'm supposing."

"Don't unjust wars also deliberately take innocent human life?"

"They do."

"So an unjust war would be a sanctity-of-life issue too, wouldn't it?" she asked. "Just like abortion."

"It would," I said, "and an unjust war certainly could be even worse than abortion. But let's think a little further. To be even worse than abortion, just how bad would the unjust war have to be?"

"Well," said Don, "since the main evil is the same in both cases — the slaughter of innocents — I guess there would have to be even an even greater rate of slaughter in the unjust war than there is through legalized abortion."

"Right," I said. "Do you happen to know how many innocent lives are lost each year through legalized abortion?"

"A lot."

"Do you know exactly?"

Don looked inquiringly at Theresa. "You remember things like that, Reesi. Do you know?"

"Just through surgical abortions? We're running at about 1.2 million a year," she said. "More than 44 million babies have been killed since abortion was legalized."

"A third of your generation," I said.

She nodded grimly.

"So to be worse than abortion," I asked, "wouldn't an unjust war have to kill even more than 1.2 million innocent people each year?"

"Hey, that's right," said Don.

"What's the death rate in the present war?"

"Not even close," he said. "Thanks! That'll help you talk with your friends, won't it, Reesi?"

Theresa sat pensively and didn't answer him directly. "Professor Theophilus," she said, "these differences we've been talking about — now that you've pointed them out, they're so obvious."

"They are, aren't they? What's the problem?"

"Why didn't think of them ourselves?"

Don nodded. "I was wondering that myself."

She looked troubled. "Do you think — do you think we overlooked them because we don't see abortion going on?"

"But we don't see war going on either," Don said. "Do we?"

"With war there are images," she answered. "The announcers get in front of the cameras and boom, 'Another two soldiers slain by terrorists today. Pictures at six.' Seeing things like that pulls at your emotions even if you think the war is just."

"I see what you mean," said Don. "The talking heads never say 'Another three thousand babies slain by abortionists today. Pictures at six.' Not seeing the pictures has got to influence your emotions even if you're pro-life."

Theresa said, "Yes! It makes all those babies being murdered for a selfish cause seem less real than the soldiers giving their lives for a just cause. It's not right. We shouldn't let our feelings be manipulated like that."

I broke in gently. "Do you remember how the letter to the Hebrews defines faith?"

They looked at each other. Theresa quoted hesitantly, "'Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for' — um — 'the conviction of things not seen.'"*

"What's that got to do with what we've been talking about?" Don asked. "'Things not seen' — that just means things like God in heaven, right?"

Theresa said, "Don, I think it includes every invisible thing that God teaches us to cherish."

His face changed. "You mean — like the child in the womb."

She nodded. "So maybe we just need more faith."

Copyright © 2004 J. Budziszewski. All rights reserved. International copyright secured.