Monday, December 15, 2025

What the Noam Chomsky-Jeffrey Epstein Emails Tell Us

Source: The Nation

Over his long life, Noam Chomsky – who turned 97 this month—has suffered fools, knaves, and hangers-on, both the curious and criminal, too lightly.

Chomsky earned a reputation early in his career as someone whose door was always open—who talked to anyone who knocked and answered any letter delivered. Then came email.

The Massachusetts Institute of Technology, where Chomsky taught from 1955 to 2017, was an early adopter of electronic communication, and he received his first email address, chomsky@mit.edu, around 1985. The stream of letters Chomsky received was largely replaced by a torrent of emails. But Chomsky’s open-door policy continued. He still felt obligated to answer all, or nearly all, the people who wrote him, a habit that has been the subject of many a Substack column and Reddit forum.

I wrote Chomsky cold in the early 1990s, and within a week, I was in his Cambridge office. We spent an hour discussing Iran-Contra and death squads, and before I left, he gave me his “secret” email address, chomsky2@mit.edu, which, as it turned out, wasn’t so secret. He gave that address to everyone anyway.

Chomsky stayed engaged no matter how tedious and repetitive his interrogator might be. In 2015, author Sam Harris badgered the then 86-year old Chomsky for five days with question after question related to defining terrorism. Chomsky did his best to answer, seemingly to no avail. He even reluctantly agreed to publish the exchanges, though he said that he thought the “publishing personal correspondence is pretty weird, a strange form of exhibitionism.”

Chomsky hasn’t spoken in public or to the press since June 2023, after he was silenced by a stroke. But his communication habits have been in the news recently—because documents, recently made public, reveal his years-long communication with the late pedophile Jeffrey Epstein. Chomsky, to be clear, has not been implicated in any of Epstein’s crimes. Rather, he seems to have been one of the many marquee names Epstein cultivated over the years.

The news has, understandably, shocked many. Chomsky’s criticism of the power elite seems inconsistent with his friendliness with Epstein, who has come to embody that elite in all its rottenness. And Chomsky’s longstanding criticism of Israel’s occupation of Palestinian land likewise appears to clash with his willingness to associate with someone many thought to be close to, if not an intelligence asset of, Israel. Tunnel focused on geopolitics and on crimes of state, Chomsky apparently didn’t see what others saw clearly: that Epstein was a pimp servicing a privatized global aristocracy, and that his victims were children.

Chomsky’s authority comes not just from his command of linguistics, a field he revolutionized, but from a perceived integrity, a sense—confirmed as true by all close to him—that he has lived a life of self-denial in service to justice. He has given an incalculable quantity of his time, and from what I understand, a good deal of his money, to people trying to make the world a better place (he has also, excessively in my opinion, indulged more than a few leftists looking to bask in his glory).

In 1970, he lectured at Hanoi’s Polytechnic University, a building half destroyed by US bombs, and then went on to tour refugee camps in Laos. He also lectured in 1985 in Managua, Nicaragua, during Ronald Reagan’s Contra War, and then in the West Bank in 1997. In late 1999, Chomsky flew to Timor-Leste, as the Indonesian forces were slaughtering thousands following a vote in favor of independence. In 2002, he arrived unannounced in Istanbul to stand side-by-side in court with his Turkish publisher, Fatih Tas, who was being prosecuted for publishing Chomsky’s essays, including on Turkey’s repression of its Kurdish population. The state prosecutor dropped the charges rather than agree to Chomsky’s insistence that he be listed as a codefendant.

Noam was married to his first wife, Carol Chomsky—herself an influential scholar in the field of linguistic pedagogy—for 59 years. After Carol died in 2008, the inhabitants of two Colombian Andean villages, Santa Rita and La Vega, named a forest after her, El Bosque Carol Chomsky, in appreciation of her husband’s advocacy on their behalf in the fight to protect water rights. In August 2012, it took Noam two days traveling by jeep and on horseback to reach the high woods to attend the dedication ceremony. He sat in silence as villagers described violence, land theft, and water poisoning they suffered at the hands of ranchers, death squads, and gold miners. Chomsky tried to speak but couldn’t find the words. Later, he sent a note to the communities saying that he hoped that “Carol’s spirit” would help them fight the “predatory forces” they face.

And, throughout all of this time, Chomsky spoke to everyone. In 2004, he let the comedian Sacha Baron Cohen, posing in character as Ali G, into his office and patiently and obliviously answered a series of absurd questions:

Ali G: So how many words does I gotta know to be, like, proper clever?”

Chomsky: “Well, the average person knows tens of thousands of words, but it’s not really about the number…”

Ali G: (interrupting) “Tens of thousands? Dat’s a lot! Me probably only knows about… three thousand. Is dat why me ain’t a professor yet?”

Chomsky: “It’s not just vocabulary. It’s how you use it, the structure…”

Ali G isn’t the most obnoxious questioner Chomsky has faced, yet I know of no instance of Chomsky refusing to finish an interview.

Chomsky is an unwavering free-speech absolutist. His belief that no speech, however vile, should be silenced got him in trouble in 1969 when he insisted that Walt Whitman Rostow, an architect and enthusiastic defender of the war in Vietnam, be allowed to teach at MIT. The university, Chomsky said, had to remain “a refuge from the censor.”

Friends and colleagues who, on other matters, remained Chomsky’s lifetime allies, including Howard Zinn and Louis Kampf, thought otherwise. They weren’t protesting Rostow’s “speech,” they said, but his war crimes. Chomsky’s defense of Rostow took place at a moment when MIT students were exposing their university as little more than an R-and-D division of the Pentagon, receiving more than half its budget from government defense contracts. Some suggested that Chomsky’s position on Rostow’s hire had more to do with protecting the university’s ties to the defense industry than with free-speech principles. As far as I know, Chomsky never changed his opinion on Rostow’s right to join MIT’s faculty.

All of this is to say that, given his inability to gatekeep himself, it is not surprising, especially considering the close connection MIT had with Epstein, that Chomsky found himself in Epstein’s orbit.


Between 2002 and 2017, Epstein donated $850,000 to MIT and visited the university numerous times. Some senior administrators knew that Epstein, in Florida in 2008, had pled guilty to state charges of soliciting prostitution from a minor. But they took his money anyway and kept inviting him back to campus. It is not known how or when Chomsky and Epstein first met, although the email correspondence we’ve seen between them started in 2015.

MIT had long leveraged Chomsky’s reputation to build its brand. Chomsky has criticized some of MIT’s financial patrons, especially David Koch, but he still occasionally participated in “prestige draws,” lectures or symposia organized by the university meant to develop a network of wealthy donors, like Epstein. Chomsky was one of the “beautiful minds” whom Epstein would target for inclusion in his friends’ group; perhaps the two men met at one of these MIT-sponsored events.

Before his stroke, Chomsky told reporters that he had “met occasionally” with Epstein, including once in March 2015 with Martin Nowak, a Harvard biologist, and other unidentified scholars at Nowak’s office to discuss Epstein’s continued funding of a study headed by Nowak. Around this time, the emails show, Epstein brokered a private meeting between Chomsky and former Israeli Prime Minister Ehud Barak. Chomsky has said that he took this meeting because he wanted a first-hand account of why talks broke down between Palestinians and Israelis in Taba, Egypt, in January 2001. The meeting seemed to confirm for Chomsky that it was Barak who ended the talks, under pressure from domestic forces in Israel.

I don’t know what Chomsky knew, if anything, about Epstein’s child sex trafficking network. Nor do I know what Chomsky knew, if anything, about Epstein’s role in advancing Israeli interests in the United States, including aiding Alan Dershowitz’s campaign to discredit John Mearsheimer and Stephen Walt’s The Israel Lobby and to paint the authors as antisemites. The most active years of his correspondence with Epstein were 2015 and 2016, when Virginia Giuffre’s civil suits against Ghislaine Maxwell, Epstein’s since-jailed accomplice, and Epstein’s friend Alan Dershowitz were getting some notice (though that story mostly went quiet after Giuffre settled out of court).


The directionality of the correspondence is nearly entirely Epstein to Chomsky, with, as far as I can tell from the searchable databases, all of Chomsky’s emails being replies to emails first sent by Epstein. The last known email that Chomsky sent to Epstein in reply to an email Epstein sent him was on December 26, 2016. The topic was the recently-elected Donald Trump.

Chomsky’s second wife, Valeria Wasserman Chomsky, independently established her own epistolary with Epstein. (On January 22, 2017, she wrote Epstein an enthusiastic email wishing him a happy birthday.) And Chomsky must have contacted Epstein in some form in 2018, given that a bank-transfer record found in Epstein’s papers dated March 28, 2018, related to the dispersal of $270,000 to Chomsky. The money was Chomsky’s–he had requested that Epstein help him complete a difficult transaction relating to his late wife’s estate. Chomsky’s original request isn’t in the public papers.

Between 2015 and 2019, Epstein extended multiple invitations to the Chomskys to socialize. Most came to naught, though the couple did attend some Epstein-organized events, including a dinner with Woody Allen and his wife Soon-Yi Previn. Some of those gatherings pulled together political and intellectual curiosities and economic elites. But there were also figures from the political extremes, including Steve Bannon; a picture of Chomsky and Bannon was among the materials found in the recently released files.

More important to Chomsky would have been the scientists Epstein collected. At MIT, Chomsky developed a reputation for splitting his attentions, building his linguistic models around interdisciplinary scientists who brought together biology, evolution, linguistics, computation, and math, and his political critique around humanists. Bannon wouldn’t be the worst person he ever huddled with, as one observer noted that at MIT, he divided his time between the “war scientists” and the “anti-war students.”

Though Chomsky corresponded with Epstein occasionally, he was often treated as an object of fascination by Epstein and his other correspondents. “Really impressive,” Ehud Barak wrote Epstein after his meeting with Chomsky. “Brilliant guy,” Linda Stone, a former VP at Apple and Microsoft, said in one of her emails to Epstein.

Joscha Back, a German-US AI researcher and prominent edgelord in “transhumanist” and “effective altruism” circles, was another Epstein correspondent. In one message, after peddling a noxious bit of race and gender science that “black kids in the US have slower cognitive development” and women mostly learn through a “motivational” system based, not like men on curiosity, but on “pleasure and pain,” Bach went on to say that these facts negate Chomsky’s egalitarian humanism: “it would mean that Chomsky’s life long hypothesis, that people have a special circuit for grammatical language, is wrong.”

On November 28, 2018, Julie Brown’s bombshell Miami Herald exposé broke the Epstein story open. Brown not only revealed the sweetheart deal Epstein had gotten from prosecutors in 2008. She also reported that police had identified at least 36 underage girls whom Epstein had molested or paid for sex between 2001 and 2006.

After the publication of Brown’s Miami Herald story, Chomsky went silent (as far as we know, based on the released documents). Epstein, however, continued to reference Chomsky in his correspondence with others. As Epstein grew increasingly preoccupied with containing the fallout from the Herald story, he tried to recruit Chomsky’s help, even dispatching Bannon to speak with Chomsky in Arizona, where the Chomskys had moved. But he proved unsuccessful in his effort to have Chomsky sit for an interview with Bannon, which was to be included in a never-finished documentary scripted to burnish Epstein’s image.

There exists in the released Epstein documents a truly cringey undated letter of recommendation that Chomsky is alleged to have written for Epstein. The letter has been extensively cited in the press because, unlike the emails, it is effusive, containing several good pull quotes. Chomsky, says the letter, considered Jeffrey a “highly valued friend and regular source of intellectual exchange and stimulation.”

I’d wager that Chomsky didn’t write this gushy letter. It sounds nothing like him. Someone should run the text through stylometry software and compare it to other references we are sure that Chomsky did personally write. My guess is that Epstein wrote the letter himself (since it portrays him exactly as he wanted to be portrayed, as a polymath of “limitless curiosity, extensive knowledge, penetrating insights, and thoughtful appraisals”). Chomsky’s name appears at the bottom of the recommendation, but only in typed form. There is no university letterhead, signature, or any log or email suggesting Chomsky sent the letter to Epstein as an attachment. The unsigned document was found in Epstein’s private files. Unless future document releases prove otherwise, this letter should not be taken as evidence of Chomsky’s opinion of Epstein.


Those with grudges against Chomsky, either because they oppose his politics whole cloth or because they disagree with a particular stand he has taken, especially related to Israel, have naturally seized on Chomsky’s contacts with Epstein. An op-ed in the Jewish Standard says Chomsky’s ties with Epstein prove his moral bankruptcy: “Legitimizing evil is what Chomsky does.”

Others on social media think Chomsky’s Epstein contacts, along with his refusal to endorse the Boycott, Divest, and Sanction movement, prove he is just a liberal Zionist. Right-wing antisemites are adding Chomsky to the ranks of globalist Mossad agents. But there’s also some considered criticism of the, to put it academically, gender dynamics of Epstein’s social network, which Chomsky entered into in the decade before his stroke.

The Epstein case isn’t Chomsky’s first scandal. Over the years, he has been accused of many bad things, including denying the Nazi Holocaust and genocides in Cambodia and Bosnia, and downplaying atrocities committed by the Syrian government. Chomsky generally dismisses such accusations out of hand. “Even to enter into the arena of debate on the question” of whether the Holocaust occurred, he once said, “is already to lose one’s humanity.”

In the past, Chomsky needed little help defending himself against charges that he was a Holocaust denier, a Pentagon shill, or an Assad apologist. If he were available for comment today, I imagine he’d respond to Epstein-related questions with considerably less patience than he showed Ali G and Sam Harris. “I’ve met all sorts of people, including major war criminals,” was his curt response in early 2023, when the first reports of his relationship with Epstein came to light.

Today, almost all of Chomsky’s old political comrades—Zinn, Lynd, Eqbal Ahmad, Grace Paley, Daniel Ellsberg, Marilyn Young, Edward Said, Daniel Berrigan, and Barbara Ehrenreich, among others—are gone. These were friends who could speak to his decency and to his uniqueness in a way that could help us understand what some think, for understandable reasons, was either an unforgivable or an incomprehensible relationship.

I disagree with Chomsky on several points, politically (his opposition to BDS) and methodologically (his disdain for Hegelian Marxism). He is stubborn and rarely admits error, qualities which frankly I appreciate. It makes him more of a flawed human, as our inspirations should be. And of course he has been right on so many issues: Vietnam, East Timor, Bangladesh, Indonesia, Nicaragua, El Salvador, Guatemala, Colombia, Turkey, the New Cold War, NAFTA, Cuba, Chile, neoliberalism, Panama, Afghanistan, Iraq, the militarization of space, corporate power, inequality, South Africa, Namibia, Libya, global warming as an existential crisis, and of course, BDS notwithstanding, Israel, and so on and so forth.

Yet what I’ve found most compelling about Chomsky is his contempt for bullshit, the skill with which he exposes the tautologies of the powerful men, their self-confirming arguments that they are powerful because they are good, good because they are powerful.

So for me, too, news of Chomsky’s association with someone like Epstein was a jolt, and it would have been even if Epstein wasn’t running a global pedophile ring. In 2019, after news broke that Epstein had cultivated close relationships with Lawrence Summers, Steven Pinker, and others, I snicker-tweeted: “You know who seemed to be able to work their whole, influential and rather successful career in Cambridge/MIT and not attend any of Epstein’s ridiculous salons?” Well, we know now it wasn’t Chomsky. And who knows, if more emails come out on the Chomsky-Epstein relationship, this whole essay may read as wrong as that tweet.

Still, Chomsky’s emails display none of the fawning chatter found in, say, Summers’s mash notes to Jefferey and Ghislaine, and none of the affective investment in Epstein that Anand Giridharadas dissects so sharply in a recent New York Times opinion piece, “How the Elite Behave When No One is Watching.” And he does not appear to have been co-opted by whatever access Epstein provided. Not long after he was photographed with Steve Bannon, presumably at one of Epstein’s get-togethers, Chomsky gave a speech at Boston’s Old South Church denouncing Bannon as “the impresario” of an “ultranationalist, reactionary international” movement.

That picture with Bannon is jarring, but from speaking with people who knew him better than I did, for me, the image of Chomsky’s unworldly worldliness holds. He knew much about the world’s evils, but didn’t know what Saturday Night Live was when he was invited on. He was a workaholic under constant, relentless demand—read the memoir of his long-time secretary, Bev Stohl, for a sense of what Chomsky’s everyday life was like—who assigned the royalties of his books to others at signing.

As for Chomsky’s emails to Epstein, they sound much like the emails he has sent to me, warning, for instance, during Trump’s first presidency about “the sociopathic freak show in Washington” and worried how the “poisons” Trump has “released from just below the surface are not going away.” The handful of notes between 2015 and 2016 that Chomsky wrote to Epstein contain similar concerns. In one exchange, Epstein referenced religious “fanaticism,” on “both sides,” only to have Chomsky correct him: “secular religions — nationalist fanaticism, etc. — are much more dangerous,” says Chomsky, who then goes on to complain about “mainstream academics” who hold on to “myths” of “American exceptionalism” and “Israeli self-defense” and refuse to criticize “Obama’s mass murder campaign.”

Chomsky was not a sentimental member of what Giridharadas calls the “Epstein Class.”


The Bible says little about Jesus’ childhood – but medieval Christians enjoyed tales of him as holy ‘rascal’

acting as a dragon tamer, physician and magician, the young Jesus of the apocrypha largely flies under the radar


(The Conversation) — Legends about Jesus’ early years that circulated in medieval Europe often drew on apocryphal texts.


An illustration from the Vernon Manuscript, from around 1400, shows the familiar motif of an ox and ass watching over the newborn Jesus. (© Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford, CC BY-NC)

Mary Dzon
December 15, 2025

(The Conversation) — Manger scenes displayed around Christmastime usually feature an ox and an ass beside the infant Jesus. According to the Gospel of Luke, Mary placed her child in a manger – an animal feeding bin – “because there was no room for them in the inn.”

No mere babysitters, the ox and ass harken back to the Book of Isaiah 1:3, a verse early Christians interpreted as a prophecy of the birth of Christ. In some early artwork, these beasts of burden kneel to show their reverence – recognizing this swaddled babe, who entered the world in humble circumstances, as lordly.

The canonical Gospels, the accounts of Jesus’ life included in the Bible’s New Testament, make no mention of those animals welcoming the newborn. Yet the motif was already seen in art from the fourth century. It was further popularized by the Gospel of Pseudo-Matthew, an apocryphal text – that is, one not included in the canon of Scripture. Pseudo-Matthew was composed by an anonymous monk, probably in the seventh century, and includes many tales about Jesus growing up.

After its account of Jesus’ birth, the Bible is almost entirely silent on his childhood. Yet legends about Jesus’ early years circulated widely in the Middle Ages – the focus of my 2017 book. While the detail of the ox and ass is quite familiar to many Christians today, few are aware of the other striking tales transmitted by the apocrypha.


Wonder-worker



‘Christ Discovered in the Temple,’ by Simone Martini (1342).
Google Cultural Institute/Walker Art Gallery via Wikimedia Commons

The Bible does include one famous scene from Jesus’ youth: the incident when 12-year-old Jesus stayed behind at the Jewish temple in Jerusalem, unbeknownst to his parents. Searching for him with great anxiety, they find him conversing with religious teachers, both asking questions and astounding them with his answers. Fourteenth-century painter Simone Martini’s “Christ Discovered in the Temple” portrays him standing before his parents with crossed arms – a stubborn youth, apparently unapologetic about making them worry for days.

The apocryphal Gospel of Pseudo-Matthew – especially versions that incorporate material from an even earlier apocryphal gospel, the Infancy Gospel of Thomas – focuses on the years of Jesus’ childhood. Like the temple story, they show the boy Jesus as sometimes difficult and having preternatural wisdom that amazes and even offends his would-be teachers. More dramatically, the apocryphal legends depict Jesus exercising divine power from a very young age.


A 14th-century Italian manuscript shows Jesus fending off dragons to protect his parents.
© Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford, CC BY-NC

Like the adult Jesus of the New Testament, this apocryphal Christ child often works wonders to help others in need. According to the biblical Gospel of Matthew, Mary and Joseph take the infant Jesus to Egypt after an angel warns in a dream that Herod, King of Judea, would kill the child. In Pseudo-Matthew’s elaboration of this episode, we see Jesus, not yet 2 years old, bravely stand on his feet before dragons emanating from a cave, where his family has stopped to rest.

The terrifying dragons worship him and then depart, while Jesus boldly assures those around him that he is the “perfect man” and can “tame every kind of wild beast.” He later commands a palm tree to bend down so that a weary Mary can partake of its fruits, and he miraculously shortens their journey in the desert.

At times, the Jesus of these legends is largely to blame for the troubles around him. The 14th-century Tring Tiles, now in the British Museum, depict one of Jesus’ friends imprisoned by his father in a tower. Christ pulls him out of a tiny hole, like a gallant medieval knight rescuing a maiden in distress. The father had tried to insulate his son from Jesus’ influence – understandable, considering that many legends show Jesus causing the death of his playmates or other boys who somehow irked him.

In a story summarized by one scholar as “death for a bump,” a boy runs into Jesus. He curses the child, who instantly drops down dead – though Jesus brings him back to life after a brief reprimand from Joseph.


One section of the Tring Tiles, created in the 14th century, shows Jesus removing his friend from a tower.
© The Trustees of the British Museum, CC BY-NC-SA

In another tale, included in an Anglo-Norman narrative that survives in an illustrated manuscript, Jesus takes off his coat, places it upon a sunbeam and sits upon it. When the other children see this, they “thought they would do the same …. But they were too eager, and they all fell down at once. One and another jumped up quickly onto the sunbeam, but it turned out badly for them, since each one broke his neck.” Jesus heals the boys at his parents’ prompting.

Joseph admits to his neighbors that Jesus “was indeed too wild” and sends him away. The 7-year-old Jesus becomes apprenticed to a dyer, who gives him very precise directions about dyeing three pieces of cloth in three different vats. Once his master has left, Jesus ignores his instructions, throwing all the cloth into one vat – yet still achieves the desired outcome. When the master returns, he at first thinks he has been “ruined by this little rascal,” but then realizes that a wonder has occurred.



Jesus seated on a sunbeam, while other boys attempt to do so, in a miniature from the Selden Supra 38 manuscript, created in the early 14th century.
© Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford, CC BY-NC-SA

Bond with animals

These apocryphal legends also show the boy Jesus having power over the animal world. When he enters a dreaded lion’s cave, cubs “ran about around his feet, fawning and playing with him,” while “the older lions … stood at a distance and worshipped him, and wagged their tails before him.” Jesus tells bystanders that the beasts are better than they are, because the animals “recognize and glorify their Lord.”

Indeed, these tales characterize Jesus as a rather haughty boy, conscious of his divinity and not happy with those who treat him as a mere child. At the same time, they depict him as a real child who likes to play. The boy Jesus is childlike in the way he often acts on impulse, not paying much attention to the admonitions of his elders.


A 14th-century manuscript, the ‘Klosterneuburger Evangelienwerk,’ shows the young Jesus playing with lions.
Schaffhausen City Library via Wikimedia Commons

His affinity for animals, too, makes him seem childlike. Strikingly, beasts in the apocrypha, beginning with the ox and ass, often seem to realize that Jesus is no ordinary child before human characters do.

The legends’ insidious insinuation that many of the Jews around Jesus were not as perceptive as the animals is part of medieval Europe’s widespread antisemitism. In one fifth-century sermon, Quodvultdeus, the bishop of Carthage, asks why the animals’ recognition of Jesus in the manger was not a sufficient sign for the Jews.



The 14th-century Holkham Bible picture book depicts Jesus performing chores at home
(London, British Library, Additional MS 47682, fol. 18).
Courtesy British Library

In the Bible, Jesus works his first miracle as an adult, at a wedding feast in Cana. The apocryphal tales, however, toy with the idea of the God-man revealing his power early on. The legends suggest that the childishness of Christ distracted many of those around him, preventing them from concluding that he was the Messiah. This allows the apocrypha to avoid contradicting the Bible’s reference to Jesus as simply “the carpenter’s son,” the opposite of a wonder child.

Each Christmas, modern Christians in the Western world tend to celebrate Jesus’ birthday, then quickly drop the theme of the Christ child. Medieval Christians, in contrast, were fascinated by tales about the Son of God growing up. Despite acting as a dragon tamer, physician and magician, the young Jesus of the apocrypha largely flies under the radar, cloaking his divinity with “little rascal” boyishness.

(Mary Dzon, Associate Professor of English, University of Tennessee. The views expressed in this commentary do not necessarily reflect those of Religion News Service.)


The Conversation religion coverage receives support through the AP’s collaboration with The Conversation US, with funding from Lilly Endowment Inc. The Conversation is solely responsible for this content.
How a niche Catholic approach to infertility treatment became a new talking point for MAHA conservatives

(The Conversation) — Mainstream medical organizations have criticized ‘restorative reproductive medicine,’ but some Catholics who follow church teachings consider it a welcome alternative.


'Restorative reproductive medicine' has become a buzzword in some conservative circles, among people morally opposed to in vitro fertilization (Jose Luis Pelaez Inc/DigitalVision via Getty Images)

Emma Kennedy
December 15, 2025

(The Conversation) — Along the 2024 presidential campaign trail, Donald Trump pledged to make in vitro fertilization, or IVF, free – part of his party’s wider push for a new American “baby boom.”

But in October 2025, when the administration revealed its IVF proposal, many health care experts pointed out that it falls short of mandating insurance companies to cover the procedure.

Since Trump returned to the White House, it has become clear just how fraught IVF is for his base. Some conservative Christians oppose IVF because it often involves destroying extra embryos not implanted in the woman’s uterus.

According to Politico, anti-abortion groups lobbied against a requirement for employers to cover IVF. Instead, some vouched for “restorative reproductive medicine” – a term that has been around for decades but has received much more attention, especially from conservatives, in the past few months.

Proponents of restorative reproductive medicine tend to present it as an alternative to IVF: a different way of treating infertility, focused on treating underlying causes. But the approach is controversial, and some practitioners closely link their treatments to Catholic teachings.

As a scholar of religion, I study U.S. Catholics’ varied perspectives on infertility, seeking to understand how religious beliefs and practices influence physicians’ and patients’ choices. Their perspectives help provide a more nuanced understanding of Christianity’s role in the U.S. reproductive and political landscape.

Defining restorative reproductive medicine

Clinics that advertise themselves as offering restorative reproductive medicine try to diagnose underlying issues that could make conception difficult, like endometriosis. Typically, a patient and provider will closely monitor the patient’s menstrual cycle to identify potential abnormalities. Interventions include hormone therapies, medications, supplements, surgeries and lifestyle changes.


Some approaches to treating infertility focus on analyzing the patient’s menstrual cycle.
Iana Pronicheva/iStock via Getty Images Plus

Much of the approach resembles the initial testing used to evaluate patients in mainstream reproductive endocrinology and infertility clinics. However, restorative reproductive medicine clinics do not typically offer IVF or other assisted reproductive technologies.

Depending on who you ask, proponents are not necessarily opposed to IVF; they see their treatments as another option to explore. Some clinicians, however, closely link their treatment offerings to their religious commitments and opposition to abortion.

Restorative reproductive medicine has prompted criticism from professional medical organizations. The American Society for Reproductive Medicine issued a statement in May 2025 calling it a “rebranding” of standard infertility treatment, with “ideologically driven restrictions that could limit patient care.” The American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists issued a brief warning that it is a “nonmedical approach” that threatens to impede access to IVF.

These critics are concerned that the focus on lifestyle changes and surgery may not address patients’ difficulties conceiving, while putting them through other unsuccessful treatments.

Church teachings


Today, restorative reproductive medicine is often described as gaining steam with conservative Christians and the “Make America Healthy Again,” or MAHA, movement. Its roots, though, are decades old, and largely Catholic.

Part of the Catholic Church’s objection to IVF stems from a concern that unused embryos are often discarded and destroyed. The church’s position is that all embryos ought to be treated with the same respect afforded a person – one of the key reasons its teachings oppose abortion.

Disapproval of IVF also stems from the church’s official teachings on marriage. According to this teaching, marriage has two chief ends, which it calls “procreation and union”: Typically, procreation is understood to mean having children, while union involves physical, emotional and spiritual intimacy. In this understanding, sexual intercourse should preserve what the church calls an “inseparable connection” between these two meanings.

The Catholic Church opposes artificial contraception because its goal is to block procreation. Instead, Catholics are encouraged to use “Natural Family Planning” – tracking a woman’s cycle so that couples can choose to abstain from sex during fertile periods. Similarly, it opposes artificial insemination and IVF because, by moving fertilization out of the body and into the lab, the process separates procreation from the act of sexual intercourse.

Survey data suggests most U.S. Catholics do not agree with these official stances, nor do they follow them.

Catholic doctors who do agree with official church teachings, however, have played a key role in developing infertility treatments that align with them. One of the most influential is Dr. Thomas W. Hilgers, who co-developed a “Natural Family Planning” method called the Creighton Model. In the early 1990s, he also developed NaProTechnology, an approach that seeks to identify fertility issues using cycle tracking, and then treat them with various medical and surgical interventions.

The NaProTechnology approach could be said to fall under the umbrella of restorative reproductive medicine, but it has mostly been used by Catholic reproductive health clinics and hospitals. Catholic physicians’ networks promote it, as do parishes and dioceses.

Navigating infertility


For Catholics who share the church’s official perspective on IVF, NaProTechnology and the clinics offering it are often a welcome alternative. Several of the Catholic women I interviewed as part of my academic research had also been to mainstream fertility clinics, but they felt that those providers did not offer much apart from IVF.

By contrast, the clinics offering NaProTechnology were often cheaper, in part because they do not offer IVF. They were also easier to navigate, since clinicians shared these patients’ religious views. Many felt that the providers were able to spend more time with them, helped them learn about their bodies, and were committed to understanding underlying issues beyond infertility.

However, others found clinics offering NaProTechnology to be lacking, often because clinicians weren’t up front about its limitations, especially when it comes to male infertility. Some patients felt that clinicians weren’t willing to admit drawbacks, for fear it would encourage couples to try IVF.



Infertility treatments are a confusing landscape for many women.
Catherine McQueen/Moment via Getty Images

Most Catholics dealing with infertility, however, find themselves in mainstream clinical settings that offer IVF. Women I interviewed who opted for IVF were frank in their critiques of church teachings and their skepticism of Catholic clinics. Many took issue with the underlying assumption that the people who ought to be procreating are heterosexual, married couples and that conception is usually possible without the help of IVF.

However, many of these women were also dissatisfied with the approach that mainstream clinics take. Some felt that those clinics were focused on profit – a concern shared by some scholars scrutinizing the fertility industry. Some women also felt pressured to genetically test their embryos for chromosomal abnormalities and to discard unused embryos, even after explaining to staff that destroying them would be out of step with their moral commitments.

Understanding patient experiences in either kind of clinic helps underscore the difficulties many people face navigating infertility – and the stakes of policy reform.

The Trump administration’s plan largely maintains the status quo for IVF access while making more room for alternative treatments. But it intensifies questions about how the government responds to religious beliefs about reproductive health care, especially disagreements about the moral status of embryos. For now, patients and providers will continue to navigate a fractured landscape.

(Emma Kennedy, Assistant Professor of Christian Ethics, Villanova University. The views expressed in this commentary do not necessarily reflect those of Religion News Service.)


The Conversation religion coverage receives support through the AP’s collaboration with The Conversation US, with funding from Lilly Endowment Inc. The Conversation is solely responsible for this content.

The Last Thing Iraq Needs: US Sanctions Threaten a Nation Trying to Heal

Source: Originally published by Z. Feel free to share widely.

I arrived at the Taj Hotel in Baghdad’s Jadriyah neighborhood at 6 a.m., worn thin by the long flight from Los Angeles. After sleeping until mid-afternoon, I stepped out into the 90-degree heat on a simple mission: find falafel, fries, and a place to exchange money. A local bus picked me up and dropped me right across from a falafel shop—a small act of hospitality. Full and settled, I walked beside the Tigris River, watching construction cranes against the sky. Life was visibly moving forward. Yet the mental newsreel kept playing: bombs falling on these same banks twenty years earlier. I was a tourist now in a country I had once protested my own nation for invading. Needing to escape both the heat and the weight of those memories, I returned to the hotel for Nutella cake and Iraqi tea, yet deeply conscious of the complex layers beneath the surface.

Tahrir Monument, Baghdad, Iraq

The next day settled heavily. We started at Tahrir Monument and the roundabout where Saddam’s statue once stood—toppled in 2003 by U.S. Marines in an image seen around the world. Today, no plaque marks the spot. Only election banners fluttered in the wind. From there, we traveled to the Arch of Ctesiphon, a soaring Persian vault from 540 AD. Nearby lay the relics of a different era: a derelict tourist complex and a museum designed by North Koreans, its walls scarred with bullet marks. Al-Mada’in, our guide remarked, had been a final stronghold against the invasion. It’s one thing to read about war and occupation; another to stand where it happened and touch the pockmarked concrete. Just yards away, young boys kicked a soccer ball in the dust, a powerful scene of life insisting on moving forward. That contrast stayed with me: the tourist complex, once a thriving vacation spot with a luxurious pool, is now a place to store garbage. Aside from the enduring Arch, the entire area lies in ruins, destroyed in the war and never rebuilt. Who knows if it ever will be. For some parts of Iraq, rebuilding only began around 2017, over a decade after the invasion. With elections approaching, I wondered about Iraq’s future—and what accountability looks like when destruction runs so deep.

Old Baghdad, Iraq

A slower day followed, wandering through Old Baghdad: its bazaar, colonial facades, antique shops, Christian churches, and tea houses thick with the smoke of cigarettes. But I felt an unease seeing Saddam-era memorabilia, like old currency, sold as casual souvenirs. My time in Iraqi Kurdistan, at Amna Suraka and Halabja Memorial, had shown me the human cost of his brutal regime. Later, we passed the haunting cement skeleton of one of Saddam’s grand mosques, frozen mid-construction by the 2003 war. It stood empty, monumental yet abandoned, like a set from Dune—a stark metaphor for interrupted futures.

Saddam Monument, Iraq

We traveled to Babylon. Before entering, we paused before one of the last remaining monuments to Saddam. His image is now outlawed; we gazed at the bullet marks and graffiti scoring the stone. Nearby, his palace loomed over the Euphrates—a hollow shell gazing across timeless dust. After roaming Babylon’s ruins, we crossed a low fence onto the palace grounds. Entering the space once occupied by a brutal dictator again filled me with unease. While others explored the looted, spray-painted halls, I was struck by the collision of histories here: ancient civilization, the US invasion, and the regime’s own atrocities against the Kurds.

Saddam Palace, Iraq

From there we journeyed to Karbala and the breathtaking Al-Abbas Holy Shrine. I wore an abaya to enter, humbled by the devotion, chanting, and crying that resonated in the air. The contrast stayed with me: between ransacked palaces of fallen power, land ravaged by war, and this enduring faith. We paused briefly at one of the world’s largest cemeteries in Najaf before visiting the Holy Shrine of Imam Ali. The long drive south to Nasiriyah that followed gave me space to hold all these layers: history, belief, silence, and dust.

Room made of reed

A highlight came in the Mesopotamian Marshes. Gliding by water buffalo through vast wetlands, said to be the Garden of Eden, I felt a deep connection to this ancient ecosystem and the Indigenous communities who sustain it. The use of reeds to build entire homes felt like a quiet miracle. Later, we visited the Great Ziggurat of Ur—a stairway to a Sumerian sky. We moved through biblical landscapes that day, though in the distance stood an old American military base, now repurposed by the Iraqis. Someone showed me photos of U.S. soldiers standing on those same Ziggurat steps.

Ziggurat of Ur, Iraq

As I leave Baghdad, I carry a sense of Iraq’s resilience, the palpable scars of war, the warmth of its people, the hope for a better future, and the ongoing story of a nation rebuilding itself. Now, as the world’s attention drifts to other conflicts, the weight of history here feels so obvious. The US footprint left in Iraq is deep—and as it threatens Iraq with sanctions, it is the last thing this country needs as it tries to move forward and heal.