Advocacy-jujitsu

Human Life Review, Spring 2003 by Smith, Wesley J

We live in the age of the moral outlaw. Flouters of traditional morality, ethical rule breakers, even outright criminals, are some of our most famous and celebrated citizens. In contrast, those who serve humanity selflessly-whether because of religious values, the belief in the sanctity and the equality of human life, or simply a kind and good heart-remain generally little known and largely unheralded. Mother Teresa is the rare exception, not the rule.

If you think I am overstating the case, take this little test: Who is more famous-Jack Kevorkian or Cecily Saunders? Both are public personalities. Both are medical doctors. Both are associated with issues involving the suffering of dying people. Both have communicated their views widely in books and public forums. Yet Kevorkian, the moral outlaw, is almost universally known, while I am willing to bet that relatively few people have ever heard of Saunders.

In a better world, the exact reverse would be true. Saunders was one of the greatest humanitarians of the 20th century. As conceiver and founder of the modern hospice movement, she is responsible for alleviating depths of suffering that cannot be measured. The first modern hospice opened in London in 1967, and the movement spread from there around the world. Because of Saunders's dedication and indomitable energy, people dying from even the most painful diseases have the opportunity to die in comfort and peace, surrounded by a caring and loving community.

In contrast, what has Kevorkian's assisted-suicide campaign contributed to the betterment of the world? For eight years he thumbed his nose at the law and at Hippocratic medical values, as he helped kill more than 130 people-whose names Dr. Compassion once said he could not even recall. More than 90 of his victims were not terminally ill, and five, according to their autopsies, weren't even sick. On one occasion, he ripped out the kidneys of one of his disabled "patients" after the suicide, offering the organs to the world "first come, first served."

Kevorkian deserved calumny. Instead, he received world fame. He became an A-list media darling, appearing as a guest of honor at Time magazine's 75th anniversary party, where the mega movie star Tom Cruise ran up excitedly to shake his hand.

Kevorkian's notoriety is not a fluke. Dr. Ira Byock, hospice physician and author of the splendid Dying Well: The Prospect for Growth at the End of Life, told me a few years ago of being invited to debate suicide guru Derek Humphry in Florida. Byock, as head of the Missoula Demonstration Project of the Life's End Institute, is one of the most prominent researchers into improving end-of-life care. In contrast, Humphry came to public prominence by assisting his first wife to commit suicide, and then writing a book about it. He soon learned that moral outlawry pays. Humphry's how-to-commit-suicide guide Final Exit became a New York Times best-seller.

After the debate, Byock recalled, the press rushed to the dais to ask questions-rushed past Byock, that is, and excitedly surrounded the moral outlaw Humphry in search of juicy quotes. Byock was ignored despite the fact that by any responsible measure, it was he and not Humphry who could have provided useful information to the reporters' readers and viewers, news they could really use about how to get high-quality end-of-life care.

Now, consider Peter Singer. He too is a media magnet and proud moral outlaw. Indeed, as the father of radical animal-rights ideology and the world's foremost proponent of legalizing and legitimizing infanticide, Singer is world famous precisely because he wages implacable war against Judeo-Christianity, and the belief in human uniqueness and the sanctity and equality of human life. True, Singer's obvious talents as a writer and public speaker contributed greatly to his success. But can anyone say with a straight face that, had he applied these same prodigious gifts to promoting religion and the sanctity of life, he would be as well known throughout the world?

It is in this Through the Looking Glass environment that we must judge the propriety and usefulness of Harriet McBryde Johnson's "Unspeakable Conversations." It is remarkable that a strong anti-euthanasia message appeared in a mainstream media outlet with the prestige and influence of the New York Times Magazine. Better yet, the anti-euthanasia spokesperson was the star of the piece, a vivid presence in all her three-dimensional human glory. This is quite a change from the usual media treatment received by opponents of the "right to die." More often than not, the presentation of our perspective is limited to terse quotes provided for "balance" in pro-assistedsuicide articles, in which we may be depicted as tight-lipped naysayers who have little empathy for the dying or understanding of human suffering.

So, why the big change? Why did the editors of the New York Times Magazine not only publish Johnson's article but make it a cover story?

I believe it was because Johnson's article can be construed as defending Peter Singer. Rather than being the "monster" she expected, Singer is described as being kind and courteous. He doesn't avert his eyes from Johnson because of her disability. His intellect is so formidable, his approach so seemingly pure, that she is emotionally disarmed. "Even as I am horrified by what he says, and by the fact that I have been sucked into a civil discussion of whether I ought to exist," she writes, "I can't help being dazzled by his verbal facility. He is so respectful, so free of condescension, so focused on the argument that by the time the show is over, I'm not exactly angry at him."