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In the previous article, I discussed general aspects of the political testament left by the greatest science communicator of the 20th century: Carl Sagan (1934–1996). I showed that his Epicurean worldview leads him to portray life on Earth as the result of an extremely ephemeral convergence of causes, that humanity must artificially sustain to prevent our species from going extinct. This maintenance requires a global pact governed by scientists. Scientists are special beings because they are, supposedly, the only ones who strive to foresee catastrophes. Sagan artificially divides humanity into two groups: Enlightenment atheists who embrace science, and religious obscurantists who reject it. Therefore, for the species to survive, the former must prevail over the latter.

In his political testament, Billions and Billions (1997), the causes he champions are environmentalism and abortion. Today, I aim to show that these two causes are, in fact, one and the same: Neo-Malthusianism.

It is easy to prove that Carl Sagan was a Neo-Malthusian. Here is what he says in the chapter “The Persian Chessboard”: “Exponentials are also the central idea behind the world population crisis. […] As the English clergyman Thomas Malthus pointed out in 1798, a population increasing exponentially— Malthus described it as a geometrical progression— will outstrip any conceivable increase in food supply. No Green Revolution, no hydroponics, no making the deserts bloom can beat an exponential population growth. There is also no extraterrestrial solution to this problem. […] Even if it were possible to ship everybody on Earth off to planets of distant stars on ships that travel faster than light, almost nothing would be changed— all the habitable planets in the Milky Way galaxy would be full up in a millennium or so.”

There is no caveat regarding the error of Malthus’s prophecy, nor any consideration of the inhumanity of his recommendations. Malthus is portrayed as a scientific hero. And, with surprising dogmatism, Sagan dismisses—without argument—the idea that technological improvements could solve the food problem. Mind you: Sagan takes it for granted that, even on different planets, humans would continue to procreate exponentially, when fertility rates historically differ even between rural areas and the urban middle class! And a thousand years is far too short a timeframe for humanity, with all its astronomical development, to solve a problem!

Instead of openly proposing that the poor be denied charity, like old Malthus, Sagan proposes birth control and technological apartheid. Instead of helping the poor, then, we must prevent them from being born and deprive them of technology—except for birth control technology, which, it seems, is entirely immune to causing unforeseen environmental damage. Moreover, while old Malthus had England’s poor in mind, Sagan broadens his scope to include the world’s poor nations—nations that keep growing and adopting technology, something supposedly responsible for significant environmental damage.

Were he to state these things explicitly, he would clearly appear as a villain. Thus, in the same chapter, the issue of birth control is wrapped in the language of humanitarianism and feminism: “There is a well-documented worldwide correlation between poverty and high birthrates. In little countries and big countries […] in almost all these cases, exponential population growth slows down or stops when grirfcling poverty disappears. This is called the demographic transition. It is in the urgent long-term interest of the human species that every place on Earth achieves this demographic transition. […] One of the central issues in the world population crisis is poverty.”

Correlation does not imply causation, yet Sagan argues as if it did. People are not poor because they have children; rather, they have children because the cost of raising them is low and is offset by the utility of their labor: in an underdeveloped setting, all farmers need to provide their children is food—which the land itself yields—and within a few years, the child begins to assist the family with work. A sterile couple would not become wealthy simply by virtue of having no children; they would merely save on food that might well otherwise rot, while failing to multiply their workforce. If matters stood as Sagan claims, sterility would be a blessing in agrarian societies, yet reality demonstrates the opposite.

He continues: “The exceptions to the demographic transition are interesting. Some nations [which he does not name] with high per capita incomes still have high birthrates. But in them, contraceptives are sparsely available, and/or women lack any effective political power. It is not hard to understand the connection.” At no point in the book does he explain what criteria must be met to say that women possess real political power within a society. This is regrettable, given his assertion that women held such power during the Pleistocene (!!) but do not today. Thus, since Sagan cites no sources for this information, one can only conclude that he is fabricating a series of pretexts to advocate for contraception, tailored to whatever reality the reader faces: if women enjoy favorable material conditions yet continue to bear children, we cannot simply leave them be; this is framed as a symptom of a lack of political power—a power women supposedly possessed in prehistory while dancing in circles on full-moon nights under the influence of hallucinogens.

In “The Environment: Where Does Prudence Lie?”, after discussing the unexpected consequences of CFCs, he laments: “The inhibitions placed on the irresponsible use of technology are weak, often half-hearted, and almost always, worldwide, subordinated to short-term national or corporate interest. We are now able, intentionally or inadvertently, to alter the global environment. […] Maybe the products of science are simply too powerful, too dangerous for us. Maybe we’re not grown-up enough to be given them. Would it be wise to give a handgun as a present to an infant in the crib?” After comparing the weapon to science, he adds “one further complication: Imagine that when you pull the trigger on a handgun, it takes decades before either the victim or the assailant recognizes that someone’s been hit.”

The implication throughout is that CFC-based refrigeration, including for food, should not have been made available to the world’s population, even though it greatly improves human quality of life. It is an essentially peaceful technology. Yet, shortly thereafter, he once again advocates for birth control, as if millions of pills containing artificial hormones were, with absolute certainty,incapable of causing environmental harm in the long run. What Sagan tacitly proposes has a name: technological apartheid.

Observe how he concerns himself not only with the population growth of the Third World but also with its access to technology, in the chapter “Escape from Ambush”: “The biggest CO₂ emitter on the planet is the United States. The next biggest CO₂ emitter is Russia and the other republics of the former Soviet Union. The third biggest, if we combine them, is all the developing countries together. That’s a very important fact: This isn’t just a problem for the highly technological nations— through slash-and-burn agriculture, burning firewood, and so on, developing countries are also making a major contribution to global warming. And the developing countries have the world’s largest population growth rate. Even if they don’t succeed in achieving something like the standard of living of […] the West, these nations will constitute a steadily increasing part of the problem.”

The Third World is in the wrong if it doesn’t use much technology, and it is in the wrong if it grows food. A single country, the USA, leads the problem that needs to be tackled, yet it is the Third World, taken as a whole, that must be controlled through a reduction in birth rates. Why not curb consumerism in the United States instead of forcing the Chinese and Indians to have fewer children? Sagan offers no answer, nor does he ever address the issue of consumerism—a topic any serious environmentalist ought to tackle.

The path Sagan proposes to avert CO2-induced global warming is to gradually abandon fossil fuels and… live off solar panels and wind power, because Chernobyl supposedly “proved” that nuclear energy is unsafe, and because its technology could be converted for weapons production. It is as if the manufacture of solar panels caused no environmental damage, and as if those panels lasted forever without ever becoming waste. The impact of wind farms on bird populations is not considered either. It is as if the sun and wind generated energy with no environmental cost to the humans seeking to harness it. By 1996, Sagan was already an electric car enthusiast; he predicted they should be the preferred choice—not for their engine power or top speed (which he assumed were lower than those of gasoline cars), but to save the human species.

So, humanity must generate less energy and, especially in the Third World, reproduce less, magically becoming wealthier in the process; yet, it must not have access to technology—save for solar panels, windmills, and contraceptives, which supposedly cause no harm to the environment. Is it too bold to assume that the campaign to abandon reliable energy in favor of intermittent sources like solar and wind stems precisely from the fact that they are intermittent—thereby compromising access to technology and increasing mortality? All to save the human species.

This subject naturally leads to the most drastic method of birth control: abortion. In the United States, the issue has been framed since Roe v. Wade (1973) in terms of “pro-choice” and “pro-life,” with positions falling along a spectrum: the pro-choice extreme advocated for elective abortion up until the moments before birth, while the pro-life extreme advocated for the criminalization of abortion in all cases. With Roe v. Wade, the Supreme Court compelled U.S. states to legalize abortion prior to “fetal viability”—that is, before the fetus is capable of surviving outside the mother’s body.

In the piece “Abortion: Is It Possible to Be Both ‘Pro-Life’ and ‘Pro-Choice’?”, first published in 1990, Sagan offered a “scientific” defense of Roe v. Wade. According to Gallup, 1996 was precisely the year when the extreme pro-choice position declined. Sagan begins his argument by stating that “a newborn baby is surely the same being it was just before birth.” However, throughout the text, he promotes the literal dehumanization of embryos and fetuses, as for him, what matters is whether the being differs from an irrational animal. To Sagan, the fact that lungs are ready or a heart is beating does not justify banning abortion, because we kill animals with these characteristics without it constituting murder. Thus, the point at which a baby is considered human is precisely when it acquires the specific human characteristic: thought. He believes thought likely emerges during the third trimester of pregnancy, implying that Roe v. Wade is sound.

Even so, the fact remains that, at least in practice, the ruling permitted abortion right up to the moment of birth; indeed, this remains the case in Alaska to this day, even after the ruling was overturned. Regarding this, Sagan states—without citing sources—that “as a practical matter, this isn’t very important: Less than 1 percent of all tabulated abortions in the United States are listed in the last three months of pregnancy (and, on closer investigation, most such reports turn out to be due to miscarriage or miscalculation).” Was this reversal of the extremist trend in the interest of the abortion-rights agenda, serving to forestall a backlash?

Yet, in the very same paragraph where he offers this reassuring statement for the average U.S. reader, he also asserts that “perhaps there is thought in the womb. It’s hard to maintain that a transformation to full personhood happens abruptly at the moment of birth.” Perhaps there isn’t thought in the womb — and perhaps newborn babies do not think, nor are full persons. That is essentially Peter Singer’s line of reasoning in defense of infanticide. Sagan defends the prevailing U.S. position with a very poor argument, one that leaves the door open to the institutionalization of infanticide should scientists present “proof” that babies do not think, or that they think less than an adult dog.

Let us consider the dehumanization involved. Through comic-book-style illustrations of pregnancy stages, we read that at three weeks the human embryo “looks a little like a segmented worm”; at the fifth week, “the face, seen here in profile, has a distinctly reptilian aspect”; at the seventh, “the face is mammalian but somewhat piglike”; at the eighth, “the face resembles that of a primate but is still not quite human.” Could all this really be the sincere opinion of a serious scientist?

Well, much of Sagan’s sophistry stems from confusing “human” as a noun with “human” as an adjective. Human cells are human, but they are not human individuals—human persons. HeLa cells (named for Henrietta Lacks, not Helen Lane as stated in the book) are human cells, but they are not a person. The adjective “human” applies even to feces.

The question should not be whether a human embryo is human, but whether a human embryo is a person. If an embryo is a living being, how can one deny that a person’s life begins at its formation—that is, at conception?

Sagan knew this. In his final text, written on the verge of death, he lamented not being able to “meet unconceived grandchildren.” His grandchildren would never be worms, reptiles, or piglike.