Euthanizing Civil Liberties

There are numerous issues surrounding the controversial discussion on Euthanasia. There is little doubt that any sane human on Earth would prefer a peaceful timely death, opposed to a drawn out agonizing departure. However, at what length are we willing to take responsibility; and at what point, if any, does the desire for death circumvent civil liberty? This paper will discuss voluntary euthanasia in regards to the terminally ill, who competently make a request for assisted suicide. I will reason that individual rights hold highest authority in decisions affecting the individual’s well-being. I will also examine the religious opposition toward active euthanasia. I will argue there is no difference in ethics comparing passive to active euthanasia and I will conclude with a controlled plan to regulate and decriminalize active euthanasia for the terminally ill. The topics of involuntary euthanasia for patients in a state of comatose or those no longer competent of rational decision will not be discussed, for these instances are never morally sound.

 Euthanasia is not a recent trend or modern invention of contemporary societies. Hippocrates wrote on the subject around 400 B.C. while developing the Hippocratic Oath and it has ever since been an ongoing debate. For centuries man has been euthanizing sick animals and even fallen comrades in battle; all to end the suffering of the hopeless.  In more recent history, medical care and procedure has evolved exponentially. The ability to prolong a patient’s life has created a novel sense of longevity. With the capability to extend life even past that of experiential quality, the consideration of purposely causing death seems absurd. But our concern is with that of the terminally ill, where a competent person with all reasoning faculties, believes death to be more desirable than their current existence. In respects of the terminally ill, there should be no authority other than their own.

James Rachels commented on this topic in his book, “The End of Life, Euthanasia and Morality.” “The only purpose for which power can be rightfully exercised over any member of a civilized community, against his will, is to prevent harm to others. His own good, physical or moral, is not sufficient warrant…Over himself, over his body and mind, the individual is sovereign.” (180)

The rights of an individual should never be denied unless an act would infringe on another’s rights, cause harm to others, or is categorically harmful to the individual’s wellbeing. Some may argue that euthanasia would emotionally harm the family and close friends of the patient and therefore justify revoking the right. However, any individual close enough to claim emotion harm would also be close enough to understand the pain the patient is currently going through. The relief of suffering outweighs the fear of emotion distress, and to keep the patient in pain to avoid it themselves would be beyond selfish. Others claim that death itself is the ultimate harm to ones wellbeing, though I disagree. When examining the experience of life with a terminally ill disease causing an incurable amount of continuous pain, I see it clearly more beneficial to a person’s wellbeing to decide, when ready, to end their life and be at peace.

Life itself is not always enjoyable; it is the quality that we measure. Once that quality is gone, no quantity of life can ever make up for the loss. However, death is a source of fear for many because at its center is the unknown. There is no way for us to know whether death is far better, far worse, or impartial in comparison to all that we know and feel here in life. When a disease has taken someone to the face of that unknown and left them there to lie in agonizing expectation, who is better equipped to make the choice of life or death than those on the brink of both worlds.

One of the biggest groups opposing euthanasia is that of the religious sect. Many believe it to be “playing God” when choosing to end a life before God’s intended date. Religious leaders and representatives have made many arguments on this topic however none are morally sound. One argument claims that it is wrong to shorten a person’s life, as it is impeding “God’s plan”. However, one must then also admit it is equally wrong when we use any means to lengthen that life as well. Curing even an easily manageable disease, heart surgery, blood transfusion, transplants, etc. all of these must be accepted as ways we as humans intervene in “God’s plan”.  If the issue is human involvement in a strictly divine scheme, both are guilty of “playing god”. Similarly, others argue that God never intended life to be painless, we are meant to endure, while being promised never to be given more than we can withstand. Just as before, if we are to accept this belief, than any methods of modern medicine used to prevent or manage pain is being used in complete objection to God. The core argument put forth by religious objectors is the sixth commandment: thou shalt not kill. Although much like the rest of scripture, the interpretation of this commandment is disputable.

James Rachels explains, “(The) Sixth commandment: thou shalt not kill is a bad translation. A better translation is thou shalt not commit murder. Which does not prohibit mercy-killing. Murder is by definition wrongful killing, so if you do not consider a given kind of killing as wrong, you will not call it murder.” (161)

By my interpretation the sixth commandment is put forth to condemn those that commit unjust killing. There have been biblical exceptions to killing, such as times of war or self-defense. Even an example taken from a passage of the Bible itself, (2 Samuel 1:9-10) ⁹ “Then he said to me, ‘Stand here by me and kill me! I’m in the throes of death, but I’m still alive.’ ¹⁰ So I stood beside him and killed him, because I knew that after he had fallen he could not survive.” While distinguishing criminal killing from merciful killing is still a debatable subject, one fact remains; the sixth commandment is not an all-inclusive condemnation of killing.

The morality of active euthanasia remains a heated dispute between those that believe it to be an inalienable right and those who fear putting responsibility in the hands of another human. Currently in the United States passive euthanasia is not only legal but a common practice among those terminally ill or just timeworn elderly. Both passive and active euthanasia result in death, however passive has become a justified means primarily due to its hands off approach. It is considered ethical to remove someone from a respirator, for example, to let them wither and eventually die of suffocation. However it is not considered ethical, in a legal stance, to inject that same person with barbiturates to induce a peaceful sleep in which they may pass instantly in comfort.

There is no unique difference in these two methods to brand one moral while another immoral. In fact, if someone were to argue for the moral validity of one over the other, it seems much more rational to side with active euthanasia. With both these decisions, one thing is certain; it has been decided that the person is better off in death than in life. If it has already been decided to shorten their life, all to end

suffering, why then would someone choose the option resulting in more suffering by extend that life for any additional amount of time? To proceed by “pulling the plug” you have made a conscience action that will end a life; however they will remain alive for minutes, hours or days in possible pain or distress. To proceed with an injection, the person will immediately fall into a deep sleep to confidently pass with no discomfort.

Many have worried that regulation of active euthanasia would lead us down a slippery slope toward other forms of euthanasia. Involuntary euthanasia is feared to become a possibility for coma patients who have no power of attorney, children stricken with incurable or even some manageable birth defects at the discretion of the parents, as well as the elderly who may be looked at as a nuisance on both medical and financial fronts. Euthanasia is always, without a doubt, unethical for those who are involuntary. However, nothing indicates that support for active euthanasia in terminally ill patients would lead anyone to support these other types of clearly immoral acts; and the mere possibility does not establish such evidence.

There is no definitive answer or formula for deciding if life has become an affliction. That is why one must be allowed to decide for themselves whether their life retains the value and dignity to make life worth living. Provided the patient is competent, their own judgment alone should hold power.

The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy states, “Advocates of voluntary euthanasia contend that if a person is suffering from a terminal illness; is unlikely to benefit from the discovery of a cure for that illness during what remains of their life expectancy; is, as a direct result of the illness, either suffering intolerable pain, or only has available a life that is unacceptably burdensome; has an enduring, voluntary and competent wish to die (or has, prior to losing the competence to do so, expressed a wish to die in the event that conditions (a)-(c) are satisfied); and is unable without assistance to commit suicide, then there should be legal and medical provision to enable them to be allowed to die or assisted to die.”

Now what remains is how to regulate voluntary euthanasia and prevent its possible abuse. Many have presented their proposed procedure for a patient; however most include months or years of paper

pushing, petitioning, doctor and family witness trials and a ruling in court requiring two or more medical experts. Plans such as these are counter-productive for a patient looking to end suffering and pain. Not to mention those patients physically incapable of completing such requests.

To avoid this nuisance James Rachel’s proposes a mercy-killing plea, which would be treated much like self-defense in the event of a trial,

 “Just as self-defense is an acceptable form of killing so then should mercy killing. Someone charged with homicide, in any of the varieties this charge may take, could plead mercy killing, and then, if it could be shown that the victim while competent requested death, and that the victim was suffering from a painful terminal illness, the defendant would also be acquitted.” (185)

This simply requires the “victim”, while competent, to pre-record a statement clearing said person of charges, complete a written agreement, and any other precaution deemed necessary before-hand to prove without a doubt that the action was a mercy-killing and not a homicide. Those cases in which it is clearly a request for mercy-killing, in which none of the family, friends or authorities raise objection would have no need to see a courtroom. Those that are not as clear cut would then rely on the evidence and their own defense to prove themselves innocent. This alone would prevent the vast majority from attempting to abuse the law.

I have stated that human rights are valid and authoritative in matters concerning an individual’s own well-being. Also I have shown that the religious objection to active euthanasia does not stand on any sound argument, and there is no discernible difference in the morality of passive over active euthanasia.  I then concluded by laying out a rational plan to decriminalize active euthanasia. The fact voluntary euthanasia, for the terminally ill, has not yet been sanctioned is due to the fear of a cultural backslide. The fear is one of less value placed on a human’s life. However, it is that value we have for life that should allow us to show mercy on those lives that no longer hold value for the individual.

Bibliography.

Rachels, James. “The End of Life, Euthanasia and Morality.” Oxford University Press, (1986): 161-185. Print.

Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy. “Voluntary Euthanasia”. Robert Young. Web. Visited on Oct 20, 2011. plato.stanford.edu/entries/euthanasia-voluntary/

“The Bible”. New International Version. 2 Samuel 1:9-10.

Time to Wait, and Smell the Quitting.

I'm 23 yrs old and i've been sober for 533 days today.

I dont really remember what i felt like 533 days ago. Most people say say that alcoholics just try to remember the good times. that they grandoise their past and try to bargain with themselves. To be honest i cant really remember any good times. I was never the type of drinker that used the social excuse. to this day ive never ordered a drink in a bar. I was always alone in my room sipping straight from sailor jerrys neck.
At 18 i started drinking. mickeys 40 oz bottles my friends and i would steal from the grocery store down the street from my house. The rival grocery store across the street i had been working at for over a year, so that one was not an option...until the first store started catching on. then i was the get away driver as my friends would come running out of the automatic glass doors. more than a few times those doors were alittle too slow opening and came dangerously close to destruction as my friends would run directly into them while looking backwards at my boss who had to have known i was involved since these same friends would come smoke cigarettes with me on my breaks.
Not only cigarettes. It was about this time i started smoking weed too. I had never smoked in highschool. Not because i was opposed to it. in fact most of my friends were heavy smokers from 8th grade on. one of them actually being sent to rehab at 15. but thats not my story to tell.
A group of friends and i used to play raquetball almost every night of summer. The same routine every night. after playing for about two hours everyone would pile into the biggest car we had that night and smoke. everyone knew i didnt smoke and never pressured me because they knew after years of experience i wasnt going to. I was sitting in the cargo area of a nissan xterra while 5 of my friends passed a world class blunt from one to the next. As it came around to me i asked, "can i hit it?" Everyone in the car fell silent and in my head i remember even the radio dialing down as if in disbelief, wanting me to repeat myself just to make sure. The thing i didnt expect is that while i didnt smoke weed i had smoked cigarettes for about 3 years at that point. I had been a pizza delivery boy in highschool and it was a requirement to listen to obnoxiously loud music and smoke cigarettes every second you were on delivery. Anyway, i was unaware that my friend Matt was exceptionally good at rolling blunts. And that the years of smoking cigarettes had given me the skills and technique to inhale way more weed than i needed to for my first time. i puff, puff, passed just like i knew was routine. For about ten minutes i felt normal, the only noticable difference were my eyes began feeling swollen. We hopped out of the car for some fresh air and i immediately went straight to a tree stump and sat my ass down before i lost my balance and embarrased myself. I am told it was 45 minutes later i was still sitting on that tree stump holding my head in my hands. i was too afraid to stand up because i felt like i would immediately fall. my friends eventually led me inside and i sat on an orange couch for the remainder of the night. From that moment until 533 days ago, i smoked weed every single day.
Drinking was just a fun time at that point. I rarely did it, but weed was a daily habit. My first year of college i never made it home before 4 am once. it was pipes, bongs, and blunts in a car every night. I was still living at my dads house so i would leave home at 8 am to head for "class", but i would stop and park at the church 4 blocks from my house and go back to sleep. i passed 3 of 8 classes that year. When my dad started seeing how absent i was, he told me unless i started being more respectful of their rules, i needed to find another place to stay. My friend was also going through a similar situation so we made a budget and found apartments, and prepared to say Fuck off to our parents. about a month before we were set to move my other best friend, the third of the trio told us he was moving to chico for school. within three days i was accepted to the community college and had an apartment set up for both of us to live in up north. Why stay in my home town where all my family is if i can move 400 miles away and forget about them. We moved and that first year felt like the greatest time of my life. Chico is an amazing city and with a job and full load at school i actually felt productive. however chico is also the biggest party school in the nation next to Arizona state. Playboy magazine had ranked it in the top 3 for 4 years in a row. But i was making it work.
first yr of living in chico i was working hard, going to school and had a girlfriend. around the one yr mark, i failed all my classes and broke up with my girlfriend. the weed and booze came on alittle stronger. My roomate and i moved to a bigger apt, for our second year. it was a four bedroom so we needed a roommate. We put up a posting on craigslist and since i was working so much i told him "just interview people and find the best match. we like the same kind of people so after you narrow it down ill meet him." a week later i was sitting in our upstairs patio talking to the cream of the crop apparently. he was a year older so 21 and could buy us booze. and he was a weed dealer that moved here from LA. He had his card and would make monthly trips back home to pick up from the clubs since he had a card, and bring back about 3 ounces to sell in Chico. He was going to school too so he just seemed like a business saavy college student. plus we were paying alot of money on weed and what he was promising us was irresistable. did i mention the entire time we were talking i was taking shot of jack daniels? oh yeah. at some point i dropped by box of cigarettes on the ground and leaning over to pick them up i fell face first onto the patio floor. that really broke the ice and nearly my two fron teeth. We let him move in and the slow spiral downward became a cliff to my rock bottom.
Within one year of living with a drug dealer i was going to school maybe once a week, smoking 3 foot bong loads on my lunch break from work, and consuming at least 3 grams of weed a day plus a handle of booze every night. that year was alot of fun but also alot more of me just sitting in my room alone how i liked it, sipping on bottles and trying as hard as i possibly could not to focus on the complete fuck up i had become. By the end of that year i knew i had to move back home or i wasnt going to survive to see 25. I lived at my moms house to save money and still had a reliable job that had transferred me to and from Chico. I was working but had given up on school.
I was still smoking everyday, every lunch break at work, everynight on my drive home from work, and about half way through my handle of rum in the middle of the night i would get in my car and drive around the block to smoke another few bowls while my mom and step dad were sleeping. I would also go to my friends house, my roomate from chico who had also decided to move back home and live with his mom. We would sit in his seperated garage and watch tv. we would get drunk and high and then i would take the 10 minute drive to get home. I remember i actually drove right into a checkpoint one night. luckily i hadnt been drinking yet, i was on my way to buy some. However i had smoked a bowl in my car less than 2 minutes prior and the entire car was filled with the smell. I lit a cigarette and set it in the ash tray to burn. I lit another one and puffed it till it was nearly gone. by the time i got thru the line to the cops my car was filled with cigarette smoke and apparently they couldnt smell it because they took one look at my license and told me to go on thru.
The good luck stopped abruptly when one morning after the usual drinking and smoking i woke and came out of my room for some water. my mom was lying on the couch reading a book, obviously waiting for me to come out. I knew something was wrong because she was supposed to be at work. i walked past her casually and said goodmorning. She followed em to the kitchen and asked "you dont remember anything about last night?" after some defensive back and forth i got the full story. at around 3:45 am both my mom and step dad were awoken to the sound of what they thought was either a hammer going thru a wall, or a muffled gunshot. apparently i had gotten up to go piss, and fallen head first into my bedroom door, which cracked. when they both came to check on me i was sitting with my back against the door completely naked and passed out. My step dad helped me into bed and i woke up 10 hrs later to hear this story.
The next day i was driving to a rehab facility at the coast. My grandparents have a vacation home about two blocks from the rehab house so it seemed the perfect place to send me. I say send me but it was entirely my decision. I guess i failed to explain the moment i knew i needed help.
about two months before this all happened i found out my grandfather, who was really more like a father to me growing up had terminal bone cancer. and about two weeks before my dreaded last drunk night i found out he said to my grandma while lying in bed one night..."here i am fighting for my life, trying to survive, and Spenser is just throwing his away." as soon as i heard he had said this i nearly collapsed and knew i needed to do somethign about my drinking.
My thirty three days in an in-patient rehab facility was difficult. not in the sense that i didnt want to be there, i actually loved everyone of the staff memeber, nearly everyone of the co-habitants, and definately the fact i was walkign distance from the ocean for a month, even if we couldnt leave the grounds it was still nice to go outside and smell the ocean air. However it was difficult because for the first time in 3 or four years i had to deal with my emotions. deal with the fact i had failed and dropped out of school, that was probably going to be stuck at my same job for the rest of my life, and the fact that my grandfather, my hero, was going to die. more sooner than later.
I left rehab and came back home feeling broken down but left with what i needed to build up again.
I went to meetings everyday for about 8 months. and i chaired a meeting of alumni from my rehab facility.
more recently I haven't been to a meeting in 7 months. if i feel even for an instant i am slipping i will be in a meeting within the hour, but i feel remarkably strong.
I waited 6 months before agreeing to meet a girl i had been talking to over the phone for nearly 2 yrs, because i didnt want to let her see me physically or emotionally until i was ready and capable.We are still dating and we have been living together for almost 8 months. and in fact, today is our one year anniversary.
I still see my friend and roomate from college. Hes a light drinker but gave up cigarettes and weed when i left for rehab.
I still smoke cigarettes, because i need at least one vice in my life.
I have three nephews and one niece that make it impossible for me to think about moving away from my family again.
i enrolled in college again and am starting over. the first paper i wrote since going back to school after two years was for my philosophy class and i scored a 98%. it feels amazing to be productive in that area of my life again.
and my grandfather passed away three weeks ago. the one event, 8 months ago, i was almost certain would push me back into drinking. I smiled when i got the message he was gone. I knew he was free from pain, and i also knew in that instant, i wasnt going to drink. After all he had taught me, and all he meant to me, and how much of an inspiration he was in my sobriety, i knew there no way i was going to drink. I spoke at his funeral and it was incredibaly difficult. He meant more than anyone in my life has ever meant to me, and its a sad strange realization he is gone. i know its going to be a long and hard road but i will see my grandfather again.
i'm glad i got to spend time with him sober toward the end..
and now everyday i am sober, i honor him.
Its been 533 days since my last drink.
it has been the hardest and greatest 533 days of my life.