GUEST COLUMN
Infinity War: A Call to Action

July-August 2018By Alexandra Wilson

Alexandra Wilson has a Bachelor of Science in Biology from the University of Dallas. She is currently living a philosophical life in pursuit of Truth on a small farm in Ohio.

Have you ever gone to see a movie that sent chills up and down your spine, and then walked out of the theater laughing with your friends, glad to return to real life where the aliens haven’t invaded, the monsters aren’t real, and the world hasn’t quite ended? Well, my experience going to see Avengers: Infinity War wasn’t nearly that comedic. Marvel Studios’ latest superhero blockbuster was actually the scariest movie I’ve seen in a long time, but not because of anything its producers likely intended or anything most of the audience is likely to notice — and both of those facts made it all the more troubling. I walked out of the theater with the tragic end-credit soundtrack still ringing in my ears, a poign­ant reminder that the darkest, heaviest concepts in the movie are not things I could blithely leave behind with my leftover popcorn but are heartbreaking truths with even darker and heavier real-world counterparts. Art has done its job if it tells the truth, if it shows us something about reality that we’ve missed or simply seen so many times that we’ve forgotten it.

The main conflict in Infinity War frames the question: What do you do when another person’s existence threatens yours, not because of anything he’s done but simply because he exists? The movie’s primary antagonist, Thanos, an intergalactic ideologue, asserts that the solution is obvious but daunting, simple but requiring courage to accomplish: the sacrifice of some lives for the sake of others. He sincerely and even selflessly believes that the people of the universe are destined to doom each other to poverty and suffering unless someone like him has the fortitude to do what needs to be done: institute a program of genocide.

The math is simple enough, Thanos claims: If there are twice as many people for whom the universe can provide worthwhile lives, then eliminate half of them. Thanos believes it is better to provide a worthwhile life for half the people in the universe than a life of suffering for all of them. Where he goes wrong is in taking it upon himself to determine the inherent value of a life and to define arbitrarily what makes a life worth living. Tragically, nobody has to wait for the movie’s sequel to be released to see how the story ends. The results of Thanos’s line of reasoning are already racking the real world through the true genocide of abortion.

Consider the real-world counterpart to Infinity War: A woman realizes that the quality of her life is threatened by the existence of a baby in her womb. She then decides — with the assistance, guidance, encouragement, and affirmation of the entire abortion industry and all its supporters — that the value of her own life is greater than the value of the life in her womb, and hers is not the life that should be sacrificed for “the greater good.” As someone who has served women contemplating abortion, I can tell you that many feel utterly convinced that neither their life nor the baby’s will be worthwhile if the pregnancy continues, and that to kill the child will at least provide a life worth living for one of them — namely, the woman herself. Like Gamora, Thanos’s adopted daughter, I can only cry out desperately, “You don’t know that!”

It is difficult to convey the immense value of every life — even the lives of the weak, poor, and suffering — to someone who does not wish to see it. Like Thanos, those who participate in the abortion genocide recognize that they have the power to end life and therefore audaciously claim the authority to determine the value of life and to end it at will in order to achieve their idea of a better world, not based on the laws of good and evil derived from nature and nature’s God, but on their own understanding of good and evil. Thanos explains how simple it will be, once he has all six of the Infinity Stones, to end life on a massive scale. Indeed, how simple it is, since Roe v. Wade, to kill staggering numbers of babies. The equivalent of the population of the entire state of Montana is put to death by abortion year after year after year in the U.S. alone.

The entire ambience of Infinity War will be familiar to anyone who has volunteered to combat the abortion genocide, as I have. It’s the feeling you have of being thrown in with a bunch of strangers who know nothing about each other except that they’re on the same side, feeling helpless yet fighting together as best they can to prevent the genocide from continuing. It’s the pre-eminence of survival — the feeling that it’s not you, me, or us who matter but the desperate accomplishment of our common goal. The day after I watched the movie was National Protest Planned Parenthood Day, and that morning, after having “suited up” for combat, as it were, and grabbed my weapon of choice (a rosary), I headed to the local abortion clinic and joined an assembly of people I have never met to fight — yes, fight — for life. The real victims of the abortion genocide are less visible than movie characters in brightly colored suits who turn to dust at the snap of a madman’s fingers, but that is all the more reason why the fight to protect those little hidden lives must be visible.

The final scene of Infinity War is particularly haunting for a millennial like me. A whole third of my generation has been destroyed by abortion. I have sometimes sat in a group of five friends wondering who the three other friends were who should have been there too. Perhaps one was a lover I’ll never meet whose life was violently ended so another could prosper. Don’t ever tell me that your abortion is none of my business.

But there is inspiration in the movie, and not just tears. Captain America, a World War II veteran super-soldier and the official leader of the Avengers, reminds everyone that the destruction of life — even indirectly (by destroying the Mind Stone), and even when one knows that it will save trillions of people — is not a decision to take lightly or rush into pre-emptively. Life is that precious, and our just authority to decide its fate that limited.

No death need be permanent in a Marvel movie, but the finality with which Infinity War appeared to end was a strong reminder of the devastating truth of death’s permanence in the real world: Real people have been erased. Permanently. One-third of my generation is gone. In the time it took you to read this article, 10 unborn lives were lost forever in the U.S. alone. As you wake up alive each morning and look around at the survivors of this genocide, remember the people you don’t see, and ask yourself what you will do to fight back.



DOSSIER: At the Movies

DOSSIER: Abortion

DOSSIER: Pro Life Issues & Culture of Death





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