Check out the “Deliverance Machine,” which asks the patient a series of questions and automatically administers a lethal injection if the correct answers are made. The system and questions are so constructed that the supplier of the machine cannot be held responsible for ending the life of the patient, who takes responsibility by operating it. Four people killed themselves in Australia using the Deliverance Machine before the law allowing this was repealed. (The machine is now on display in the British Science Museum.)
So do people have a right to end their own lives?
Whether you’ve answered “yes” or “no” to that question, the fact remains that people can and do. We are but fragile blood and flesh, and it’s disturbingly easy to end our lives should we choose to. UN reports that more than 1 million people take their own lives each year - more than the combined annual deaths from homicides and wars. Suicide is a leading cause of death among teenagers and adults under 35.
Suicide and assisted suicide are illegal in many parts of the world. But many people see suicide as an individual’s ‘right’. The right to self-determination asserts that we all have the freedom to make decisions about our own lives, and should not be stopped by acting on those decisions as long as they are not going to harm another person. As long as the person is sane and truly wishes to die, and as long as they do not harm anyone else by their actions, what can be the reason for stopping them?
But do we really have 'rights' that extend to ending our own lives? And is it possible to kill yourself without there being consequences for other people? The answer is no. On a practical level, somebody will have to find your body and dispose of it. This could be your family, a friend, neighbour, or even a complete stranger. On an emotional level, a suicide could have a devastating impact on the people left behind. A person considering suicide may think that they will “get over it” and that his or her right for self-determination overrides the emotional impact on others. Does it?
Some people would rather end their own lives than be a burden on others. Groups like Dignitas and Dignity in Dying make a powerful case to allow terminally ill people to make their own decisions about their lives. If someone is physically suffering, and nothing can be done to ease their suffering, it could be argued that it's kinder to allow that person to die. The tear-inducing TV drama ‘A Short Stay in Switzerland,’ based on the true story of Dr. Anne Turner, gives you an insight into why someone may decide to kill themselves in this situation and how their family can come to terms with that decision. Personally, I would like to have that choice to end my life if my health is irrevocably taken away from me and I can no longer live with dignity and joy.
However, opponents of assisted suicide argue that ill people may feel pressure from their carers and families to end their lives should suicides become legal or socially acceptable. Recently, 17 workers committed suicides in an electronics factory in China, one of them leaving a note explaining that he had done so to provide for his family, as the factory paid a remuneration for the families of workers who died on-site. (The programme of remuneration was cancelled after they found this note.) That person must have weighed up the cost of his living on versus the benefit it would endow upon his family. In an ideal world, monetary considerations would never enter into matters of life and death, yet it does in our imperfect world.
In certain cultures, suicides are acceptable and even advocated under certain circumstances. Japanese samurai killed themselves in a ritual called seppuku rather than being captured by their enemies and losing their honour. Horrifically, in certain sharia cultures, women and girls who are raped are expected to commit suicide, to spare everyone the embarrassment of an honour crime. It breaks my heart to think of people who’d rather kill themselves than go on living in shame, shame bestowed upon them by society and arbitrary rules of conduct. This is totally ethically unacceptable.
I find the beauty of life overwhelming - even when bad things happen, I think of people who are less fortunate than I am and it puts my problems into perspective. People like Daniel Kish and Kainat Soomro show that no matter what happens to you, you can use that experience to go on and make life better for yourself and for others.
This little fact may make you uncomfortable, but here goes: we are all going to die one day, and whether we think about it or not, the option to end our lives is always there too. People who are determined to kill themselves will do so, for we are but fragile masses of bones, blood and flesh. We are capable of inflicting great pain upon ourselves and others. But on the flip side, we are capable of some pretty awesome things too: happiness, laughter, understanding, connection, exploration, learning, physical and mental achievement. Most of all, we have the power to decide our own paths.
Maybe the answer is not to ask whether it is ethical for people to commit suicide or not. Maybe the answer is to live each moment with kindness to ourselves and others, gratitude for all the amazing things and people in our lives, respect for each person’s right to live life to their full potential, and with sheer wonder at the fact that we, a bunch of molecules flying through time-space, are us.
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Today's story:
Behind the Cherry Blossoms
The building was hidden behind a path lined with cherry blossoms. They swayed gently in the spring breeze and filled the air with a sweet rosy smell. As Tony walked down the path, he thought about how these cherry blossoms would carry on blooming and smelling lovely like this, even when he was dead. The thought didn’t make him sad - it was a mere fact.
A small, nondescript building came into view as he approached the end of the path. At first Tony wasn’t sure if he’d come to the right place, but he soon spotted a small sign that said ‘Centre for Assisted Suicide’. He rang the door bell and was buzzed in.
Inside was a small reception with a bored looking young woman behind a desk. Tony flashed her a polite smile as he approached but she just diverted her eyes.
“Hi, my name is Tony Mo. I have an appointment for 3pm.”
“Please have a seat. The doctor will call you,” said the receptionist, mechanically.
An older woman also sat waiting in the room, surrounded by her family. A female doctor came out and called her name. The family exchanged nervous looks then they all disappeared through the door.
Tony moved to let them pass, then sat down. The chair he was sitting on was reasonably comfy though the green cloth padding on it was a bit worn-down. The air conditioning was on full blast, but he could still hear the sound of children playing outside. Again, Tony thought, all this will continue when I die, except there will be no more me to notice those things and I will be as cold as this air. And that wouldn’t make a bit of difference in the grand scheme of things. He was but a tiny component on a circuit board relentlessly moving down a conveyor belt in the electronics factory of life.
His factory dorm mates had said goodbye to him that morning with stoic handshakes and manly embraces. “See you on the other side,” they said. They too had known that the conveyor belt would carry on, bringing ever more components and more circuit boards they would slot together with their hands, day after day, hour after hour.
Tony took out the picture of his son and wife that he always carried in his wallet. His wife was dressed in a flowery top and wearing very pink lipstick. His son Rory’s eyes were wide open and his mouth was slightly agape, staring out at Tony as if asking, “who are you?” It was a fair question, considering Tony had only seen his son a dozen times in all his seven years of life.
On public holidays Tony would ride the bus for 4 hours to his rural hometown, with a bag full of little toys and trinkets for his family. Rory was taller and more taciturn each time he visited, and mostly ignored Tony. His wife would give him a quick embrace and start to tell him all the news and gossip from the neighbourhood. The whole experience was always strangely disconcerting for Tony - he was used to them being pixels on a screen that spoke through the speakers on his PC. Of course, he loved them and they loved him. But this was another mere fact he had memorised, not felt. Deep in his heart, he knew they would not miss him, the same way that he only missed them in an abstract way.
He hoped they would feel grateful for what he was about to do, for the government was quite generous in their rewards for people who decided to end their lives. It was much cheaper for the state to pay off a one-off remuneration than pay his pension and healthcare into old age, especially now that the overpopulation problem was becoming acute. He might as well, he thought.
He was drawn out of his reverie when the doorbell rang again. The receptionist pressed the button and the door opened. His heart skipped a beat when he saw who walked in. She was slight and light-skinned and wore her shoulder-length hair in a high ponytail. He would have recognised that fearless walk anywhere.
Tony and Rachel had grown up in the same village. He’d had a crush on her for as long as he could remember, admiring her for her perfect little ponytails and her ability to climb trees and cry at will. They got together in high school for a few weeks, but then her family had moved away and they’d lost touch. He had always wondered what she was up to, where she ended up living and working, whether she was married and had children, if she wondered about him too.
But what was she doing here? This was not how it was meant to happen.
The family who had gone in earlier came back into the reception, some of them openly sobbing. The old woman was no longer with them. Tony watched Rachel turn her head to stare after them. He could see fear in her eyes.
“Tony Mo?”
The doctor was back and calling his name. Rachel started when she heard his name. Their eyes met. In a split second, those two pairs of eyes had asked and answered an infinite number of questions.
Tony stood up. He had made up his mind.
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