MAY 2000

The Oklahoma House of Representatives recently approved a bill that would require science books for public schools to acknowledge "one God as the creator of human life in the universe." Which God do you suppose they're talking about? Brahma? Allah? Our kids are slaughtering each other in schools, and these jerks are wasting tax dollars trying to shove God into science classes. Then we have the fascinating story of how both Jews and Christians opposed the planned execution, in Tennessee, of a child rapist-murderer. Why the opposition? Because it was scheduled to take place April 19, which was part of a "holy" week for both Christians and Jews—Passover and Easter. Go ahead and kill the guy was the message, I guess, just don't kill him during our High Holidays. The whole world is insane, as many of us have suspected for quite some time.

And then, on April 23, Christians celebrated the resurrection of Jesus after what was, to them, a sacred, glorious, justified death. Apparently there are deaths that are quite appropriate. It all depends on who's doing the judging of the appropriateness. Which brings us to…

In an article I wrote a couple years ago for Humanist in Canada I discussed physician-assisted suicide in cases of terminal illness. I argued then, and still believe, that it is inexcusable to deny people this basic right to die when they are suffering the agonies of last-stage illnesses. I stressed that the laws against such euthanasia are all based on religious doctrine, rather than common sense and compassion. In response to that article, a friend asked me a fascinating question: Why should a person have to be in the last stages of a tormenting illness in order to be allowed to end his own life? Hmmm. Why indeed?

This provocative question goes to the very core of humanism, which obviously focuses on certain inalienable human rights, "death with dignity" being among them. It also opens up a whole new can of worms. Life and death issues are not nearly as clear-cut as we would like to think they are. We still can't agree on when life begins—zygote, embryo, fetus, birth. And death itself is still in the process of being defined since advancing medical procedures "bring back" apparently dead people. The phrase "death with dignity," applauded by most humanists and excoriated by most religionists, invariably refers to people who know they are dying and (rightly) want to end their lives of pain before they are reduced to machine-controlled, incontinent, drooling, drugged-up zombies, who can't even recognize their own loved ones. But why, my perceptive and persistent friend asked, should we not have that same right at any time in our lives? I didn't know how to answer that and said so. But it sure got me thinking.

We are so used to associating voluntary suicide with major illnesses that any other context seems not only alien but impossible. Paradoxical. Crazy. And crazy is really what we mean, and why the idea seems so absurd. There is a universal, unspoken assumption that you have to be crazy to want to die unless you are facing certain, imminent, painful death. But is this true?

The human will to live is so strong and so clearly visible that it's difficult to imagine it faltering. Prominent examples include slavery (wouldn't death be better?) and concentration camp inmates (wouldn't death be better?) and tortured POWs (wouldn't death be better?). The fact that there are any descendants at all of these long-suffering victims is a glowing testament to the human will to survive. That powerful instinct for survival is deep within us. And yet . . . .

People teetering on rooftops because they've just been fired from their jobs, or people swallowing bottles of sleeping pills because lovers have deserted them, could certainly be considered "crazy" in the sense of being momentarily irrational. We know this is true because people who have tried to take their lives, but survived, look back with chagrin and amazement that their sense of proportion could ever have been so unbalanced. And people who suffer from "clinical depression" must be treated carefully and watched closely to prevent that one moment of despair from turning into a suicide attempt. But what about people who do not fall into any of these categories, yet want to die anyway? Can such a state of mind exist? After much lively discussion and considerable contemplation, I have come to the conclusion that the answer is yes.

The problem with this position is apparent. Anyone who does not have any serious health problems, but wishes to die anyway, will automatically be diagnosed as clinically depressed. Why else, the argument goes, would anyone want to die? This is a vicious circle of course, and one that may be difficult to get out of. But some carefully applied logic can shed a great deal of light on the problem.

For example, a teenager who wants to die because of a broken romance clearly needs help. Life has so much to offer beyond one shattered, lovesick dream. But what about those for whom life has little or nothing left to offer? Leaving truly sick people aside for the moment, consider the rest of us, at various positions on the continuum of existence—from a chubby, giggling eight-month-old, to a tired, lonely eighty-year-old. We're all scattered randomly across that entire spectrum, some of us skipping through life, some of us plodding. At what point, if any, should we be allowed to say, "Enough!"

Let's say you are eighty-five years old and you've had a rich, fulfilling life. Your marriage was long and loving right up to the day you were widowed, six years ago. Your children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren, have for the most part turned out to be loving, productive people. After a struggling beginning, you were and still are financially well off. In your own small way, you've helped to make this world a slightly better place than it was when you arrived here. It has been a life well lived.

You are relatively healthy, but now you can find no enthusiasm for anything any more. You are very lonely and never found a successor to your beloved spouse. You are experiencing the many infirmities of age that take much of the joy out of life. Your hearing no longer allows you to enjoy the symphonies you once relished. Food has no taste any more. Sex ceased to be a consideration many years ago. The wine you used to enjoy now gives you indigestion. You haven't the energy to get involved with your grandchildren's activities—and, frankly, you're not all that interested anyway. Although you can remember your high school years vividly, you cannot recall what you did yesterday. It's a struggle to remember names. You've seen more politicians come and go than anyone should rightly have to endure. You ache when you get out of bed in the morning, and sometimes you ache all day, which is why you can no longer take care of a pet. Your friends are mostly in the same boat you are, and you envy the extremely rare exception who still plays tennis. You and your friends unintentionally bore each other. Your days are clones of one another as you go through the motions of eating (which you often forget to do since you have no appetite) and sleeping—which you now do only four or five hours a day. You fill the spaces in between with game shows and magazines that are no longer relevant to your life. You have some wonderful memories, but now you are weary. It is time to say good-bye.

I hope I haven't depressed the hell out of you. But my point is that this person, and any others like her/him, should be "allowed" to die if that is what is desired. Why must they keep going, until a fall results in a broken hip, requiring painful surgery, resulting in semi-invalidism, requiring medication, resulting in confusion and yet another fall….Why must they keep going until all memory is gone, good and bad, and life is a confusing nightmare? Why must they keep going until they are bedridden, in diapers, crying out of sheer despair or physical pain? Why can't they be allowed to savor the past, one last time, bid farewell to anyone important to them, and then leave life painlessly, with relative grace and ease?

When viewed like this, it seems obvious that we, as a society, have no right to dictate when and how these lives must be prolonged, if it is against their will. This is assuredly a controversial topic, but if we are going to be true to our commitment to humanism, which includes respecting individual rights, then I think this line of reasoning must be accepted. Again, I am not talking about people who are depressed for trivial reasons or for no reason at all, but rather people who are depressed with good reason. Nor am I advocating some sort of ghoulish, diabolical population control vis-a-vis Soylent Green (a horrifying movie about overpopulation, plankton destroyed by pollution, and people being eaten—yuck!).

I'm also not trying to present death as some sort of enticing goal to be pursued enthusiastically. But death is as much a part of life as is birth. It goes with the territory. And since it can't be avoided, shouldn't we, as humanists, regard the right to die, at a time of our own rational choosing, as an important human right? Evolutionarily, suicide is obviously quite a non-adaptive trait. At the same time, for most of human history, evolution has made this particular life/death decision moot. Humans were mostly lucky to live long enough to even think about such a thing. But if you do think about this rationally, then the only reasons against rational suicide are religious ones. God will punish you if you destroy your precious life!

As with physician-assisted suicide in terminal illness, safeguards could be written into the laws, which would require counseling and waiting periods before you could legally obtain professional help to end your life. And the fact that others might be hurt by your actions is something you would naturally consider while making your decision. In fact, you would undoubtedly want to discuss this all-important decision with any loved ones who might be hurt by it. But if there were a great deal of such genuine concern you might not be considering this at all. Loneliness is a terrible burden for many of the elderly.

But ultimately it is your life, and you should have control over it. Besides, we hurt others all the time, unintentionally or not, and that factor alone should not preclude the reasonable option of choosing this final act.

As for me, well, I'm not ready to go yet! But if the time ever comes that I have simply had my fill of life, and no longer have the desire to force myself to get out of bed in the morning only to sleepwalk my way through another empty day, I would hope that I would have the right to say good-bye to the world at a time and place of my own choosing. And I would wish the same for everyone else.

There should be joy in life, not in waiting to die, as so many religions insist. We should be savoring the fragrance of the roses, not planning how we want them arranged on our coffins.

We must treasure those days while we may. But eventually those days must end….

© 2000 Judith Hayes

Back to Main Page                              Back to Previous Columns