|
Home
Articles
Newsletters
Donations
Links
Materials
Membership Information
Contact Us
|
January 02, 2003 The Times
By Mick Hume
The notion of flying off to the Alps to "get away from it all" could be
about to take on a whole new meaning, with news that a terminally ill man
from Liverpool plans to travel to Switzerland to join a group that helps
foreign nationals to kill themselves.
What's more, the 74-year-old sufferer from motor neurone disease reportedly
wants to publicise his wish to die "in the hope of promoting euthanasia in
Britain". Promoting euthanasia? That made even more depressing reading than
the Prime Minister's "We're Doomed!" new year message.
The international campaign for the "right to die" gained a fresh lease of
life in 2002. The Netherlands became the first country to legalise assisted
suicide and voluntary euthanasia, closely followed by Belgium, while the
legalisation debate intensified from France to Australia. In the UK, Dianne
Pretty lost the legal battle for her husband's right to help her to die, but
won widespread support for a change in the law.
We all feel sympathy for the desperate individuals and families demanding
voluntary euthanasia. But there are wider issues of life and death at stake.
Of course, doctors have long taken humane measures to hasten death at the
very end. And, in a sense, everybody already has the right to die, since no
law can punish a suicide. But that is no reason to give the State's formal
approval to it.
The rise of campaigns to legalise voluntary euthanasia and assisted suicide
reflects society's declining faith in life before death. It is a symptom of
the morbid, defeatist mood of the times that one of the more dynamic reform
movements should be inspired by those demanding an early demise.
That movement's language of personal choice can make its cause seem
attractive. But nobody who truly values liberty should want to reduce life
itself to just another "lifestyle choice". It is telling that public support
for legalisation is out of all proportion to any actual demand for voluntary
euthanasia. In practice, few terminally ill people go through with it. Even
such a prominent campaigner for voluntary euthanasia as the drugs guru
Timothy Leary chose to "drop out" of the suicide squad when his time came.
Perhaps more telling still, American surveys suggest that support for
legalisation is highest among people aged 18 to 44, and lowest among the
over-70s. What, exactly, is motivating all these young campaigners?
Among those asking to die, the most common factor is not physical pain, but
depression. This is the new battleground in the euthanasia debate. On
Christmas Eve, the Dutch Supreme Court ruled against a doctor who had helped
a physically well man to commit suicide simply because he claimed he was
"tired of life". But the push to widen the grounds for voluntary euthanasia
continues. Belgian law recognises psychological suffering as legitimate
grounds, and the Swiss group Dignitas, which the MND sufferer from Liverpool
hopes will organise his death, told the BBC that it would accept a diagnosed
schizophrenic for assisted suicide.
There must be something deeply disturbed about contemporary culture when
treatable psychological disorders can be deemed to be a death sentence. Are
we at such a low point that the law sees an unhappy existence as a good
enough reason for a premature death? As disabled campaigners point out,
making "quality of life" a measure of whether euthanasia is justified is a
dangerous business. No law should be allowed to declare that a life lived in
pain is worth less, never mind worthless.
Nor should any court be empowered to exercise Solomon-like powers over
matters of life and death. My beloved wife and I may have our differences
from time to time. But I really don't want a judge to give me the legal
right to kill her (or indeed her me), whatever the doctor says.
|