February 8, 2011
Assisted Suicide Distorts the Meaning of Mercy
“In helping the terminally ill to kill themselves, we’re colluding not only in their
dehumanisation, but our own.”
About the author: Charles J.
Chaput, a member of the Order
of Friars Minor, Capuchins, is the
archbishop of Denver.
See if this story sounds familiar: A happily married couple—she
is a pianist; he a rising scientist—have their love suddenly
tested by a decline in the wife’s health. Diagnosed with
multiple sclerosis, she falls victim to a steady loss of muscle
control and paralysis. The desperate husband uses all his
professional skills to save her. But ultimately he must watch her
deteriorate in hideous pain. The wife worries that she will soon
no longer be “a person anymore—just a lump of flesh—and a
torture” for her husband. She begs her husband to kill her
before that happens. And eventually, worn down, the reluctant
husband releases his wife from her misery with poison.
The husband is indicted for murder. But the understanding
judge and jury soon agree that, given the circumstances, the
husband is not a killer, and the law needs to be reformed.
Meanwhile, in impassioned public comments, the husband
attacks “the proponents of outmoded beliefs and antiquated
laws” who inflict unnecessary anguish on the terminally ill,
“who suffer without hope and whose death would be
deliverance for them.”
Euthanasia and Propaganda
The story fits comfortably with today’s medical headlines. It
could easily be a 20/20 segment or a page from Jack
1

“[I Accuse is] the classic example
of how compassion can be
manipulated to justify mass
killing - first in the name of
mercy, then in the name of cost
and utility.”
February 8, 2011
Kevorkian’s latest trial. But it comes from another era.
Produced in 1941, it’s the plot line of I Accuse, one of the Third
Reich’s most effective propaganda films. I Accuse was created
for one reason only: to advance the Nazi campaign of
euthanasia for the mentally and physically handicapped,
“antisocial elements,” and the terminally ill. And it worked. It
was a big box-office success. It’s also the classic example of how
compassion can be manipulated to justify mass killing—first in
the name of mercy, then in the name of cost and utility.
Obviously, America in 1997 is not Germany in 1941. Americans
have a practical sense of justice that favours the weak and the
little guy. But if we want to keep it that way, we shouldn’t
assume that merely knowing about a past tragedy prevents us
from repeating it. We need to learn from history. And in
reflecting on physician-assisted suicide, the first lesson for our
lawmakers is that any killing motivated by a distorted sense of
mercy—no matter how many reason- able and honeyed words
endorse it—leads to killing that has nothing at all to do with
the best interests of those killed.
Let’s examine a few simple facts.
Three Misconceptions
First, every one of us fears the image of a dying patient
stripped of dignity and trapped in a suffering body. But today,
no one needs to suffer excruciating pain in a terminal illness.
Modern pain-suppression drugs can ensure the com- fort of
persons even in the final stages of dying. Hospice care, focused
on ensuring a natural death with comfort and dignity, is
increasingly available. It’s true that some doctors under
prescribe pain medication or seek to artificially prolong life
beyond reasonable hope of recovery. But that is an issue of
train- ing. Patients have the right to decline extraordinary
means of treatment. They also have a right to be free of mind-
numbing pain. Both these goals can be accomplished without
killing them.
Second, terminally ill persons seeking doctor-assisted suicide
usually struggle with depression, guilt, anger, and a loss of
meaning. They need to be reassured that their lives and their
suffering have purpose. They don’t need to be helped toward
the exit. We should also remember that in helping the
terminally ill to kill themselves, we’re colluding not only in
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their dehumanisation, but our own. Moreover, the notion that

suffering is always evil and should be avoided at all costs is a
very peculiar idea. Six thousand years of Judeo-Christian
wisdom show that suffering can be—and often is—redemptive,
both for the person who suffers and for the family and friends
of the one in need. In any case, it is very odd to try to eliminate
suffering by killing those who suffer.

Third, the Hippocratic Oath has very good reasons for binding
physicians to “do no harm.” Doctors wield enormous power
over their patients. And that power quickly corrupts the
profession unless it is rigorously held in check. That is one of
the reasons the American Medical Association has rightly, and
so strongly, opposed physician-assisted suicide.

The alternative is immensely dangerous. The doctors who

killed their patients in Nazi Germany may be written off as the
product of a special and terrible time. But what about the
doctors in the Netherlands—right now, today—who admit to
killing patients without their approval?

Physician-assisted suicide among the Dutch has been quietly

tolerated for some time. But no one was prepared for the
number of Dutch doctors who have taken it beyond that,
proactively dispatching the terminally ill without their
knowledge. The point is: The logic behind doctor-assisted
suicide naturally expands. Can anyone honestly argue that
physician-assisted suicide will limit itself to voluntary
candidates in an era of ruthless medical cost-efficiency? And do
we really want a society where patients aren’t sure they can
trust their physicians? . . .

Missing from too much of today’s discussion of doctor-assisted

suicide is the presence of God. Yet God, in the view of the
great majority of Americans, is the author of life and its only
true “owner.” Life is God’s gift, and he alone is its Lord.
However wounded or attenuated it may seem, life is precious.
Every life is sacred, from conception to natural death. We
rarely understand life. We certainly don’t own it. But if this sad
century has taught us anything, it’s that we have no right to
dispose of it—however good the alibi.